Living Vengeance
by Mrs. Crocodile
Summary: A wish made in the spirit of vengeance brings Anya back into Xander's life. Circa five years after the finale, no Season 8. COMPLETE
1. Older and Far Away

**Author's Note:** If you know anything about my Heroes fanfiction, then you know that I have a lot of trouble letting sleeping dead characters lie. This is just how I deal with loss. There's a whole section about it in my profile.

So, as I say below, this is not Season 8 compliant, because I came up with it before reading Season 8, and it doesn't really work if I try to incorporate the new canon. But it should be generally AtS Season 5 compliant, which means possible minor spoilers for that.

Last thing, I'm going to name each chapter after an episode of the show for no other reasons than (1) I think I can manage it where the titles are actually fairly relevant to the text and (2) I like a challenge. It's not that I actually think it's a cool thing to do or anything like that. (And if I start writing about Inca mummies, band candy, or the evils of beer, you'll know I'm in trouble.)

**Disclaimer** (for the whole story): I do not own any part of the Buffy franchise. No money is being made off this story. Please don't sue me.

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**Title:** Living Vengeance

**Summary:** A wish made in the spirit of vengeance brings Anya back into Xander's life.

**Circa:** Five years after the finale for most of the story. (However this chapter is set three years after.) No Season 8

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**Chapter 1—Older and Far Away**

_July 2006_

There came a point where Buffy decided that she was getting old. At twenty-five, she was actually really old for a Slayer. It was a young girl's game. If she remembered her eighteenth birthday correctly, the Watchers' Council even liked to stack the deck to make sure that Slayers did not reach adulthood. Of course, she was not playing by the Council's rules anymore, but still, she felt that it might be time to re-evaluate her role in the fight against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.

When this whole thing started, she had eight years of experience, and all the other Slayers had one day's worth. It was, to be fair, an incredibly difficult, evil-heavy day, but still... There was Faith. She had real experience; Buffy was not going to deny that. But when you subtracted all her time spent in prison, in a coma, and working for the wrong side, she only had maybe a year. So in the beginning, there was a lot put on Buffy's shoulders, which was fine. But now, there were hundreds of veterans with three years in the field, or close to that. By the time Buffy had been working that long, she had already averted three or four apocalypses with only a handful of non-Slayer helpers. They would be fine.

And it was not as though she intended to turn her back on her calling just because she was no longer the Chosen One. (Or one of two, as the case may be.) She just wanted a chance for a normal life, more normal anyway. For the last ten years, that was all she had wanted. She believed that she could fulfill her destiny by focusing on the training and leaving the fighting side of things to the younger, fresher girls.

After three years in the African desert, Xander, too, was ready to go home. His actual lifelong home of Sunnydale was gone, but when Buffy told him that she wanted to open a stable training facility in San Diego for new Slayers, that sounded close enough to him.

Between witchcraft and Kennedy, Willow had her own thing going on. She really liked the idea of them all being together again, but relocating to southern California did not work with her life. Buffy said she understood, that she had not expected Willow to come with them, but it all made Willow kind of sad. She promised that she would still be around a lot. To prove that, she spent a few weeks helping them with the move and setting up the facility.

It was not difficult to get the girls to come to San Diego. There was a connection between them, all of them. There was a sense of purpose and destiny that filled a new Slayer when she was called. Those who wanted to stay out of the fight, stay with their friends and family were free to do so, but most knew, most could _feel_ that this was now their place in the world. By the time Willow was ready to leave, just one week after the facility opened, there were already twenty girls staying there and beginning their training.

On Willow's last night there, the three of them went out to a movie, because it seemed like a normal thing to do, and this move was all about getting back to normal. When the movie was over, Buffy and Willow went off to the restroom in that weird way girls always did, leaving Xander waiting alone in the lobby.

He leaned up against one of the promotional pictures without really paying attention to which one it was. From the other side of the lobby, an attractive, short woman with curly brown hair made eye contact with him. She hesitated for a second before approaching. "You know," she said. "I've heard of people dressing up for Star Wars, Star Trek, that kind of thing, but I've never seen someone in costume for Pirates. You must be a huge fan." She looked up at the poster behind his back.

Xander turned his head to see what she was looking at and realized that he was leaning against the poster for the Pirates of the Caribbean sequel. It still took him a second to figure out why she would think he was in costume. "Oh, no, I come by this eye patch honestly. By way of an actual ocular injury."

"Oh." The woman leaned against the wall to the right of him. "I'm Erica."

Xander was not sure if she was also waiting for someone, but he had a feeling she might be hanging around just to talk, which was okay with him. "Xander."

"So, Xander." She sounded like she was trying to be casual. "How did you lose your eye?"

He looked straight ahead at the restroom doors. "That is a long story."

She nodded a little. "Well, maybe you could tell it to me over coffee. Or something. I don't know." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm really bad at this."

Willow and Buffy emerged from the restroom, but Xander turned his attention to Erica. It had been a while since he had a woman hit on him, and if he remembered correctly, he had never been that good at this either. "No, you're doing fine. I would love to get coffee with you, but I can't right now. I'm here with friends, and I drove, and one of them, it's her last night in town." He gestured over at his approaching friends.

She looked at the friends to whom he was referring and blew out her breath. She leaned closer, and asked under her breath, "Just friends? Both of them?"

"Definitely just friends."

Erica dug into her purse and pulled out a business card and a pen. "I'm going to give you my phone number, but you have to promise that you'll call." She wrote out a number on the back, labeling it "Home."

Xander looked at the card as Buffy and Willow walked up. Introductions were made all around, and then Erica made a slightly awkward exit.

When Erica was gone, Willow hooked her arm in Xander's. "Oh, you made a friend."

Xander looked at the card again, thinking about coffee and what he was going to tell her about his eye. He had spent the last three years with only Slayers and other people in the know. It had not occurred to him that telling the truth would make him sound insane to a normal person. Then another thought popped into his head. "What do you think the chances are she's a demon?"

Willow pulled him toward the door. "Knowing you, I'd say about 75%. Just remember, never go to a second location."

"Yeah," Buffy interjected. "That's how people get stabbed."

"You are not helping," Xander said. After a second, he added, "Would you think it was more or less likely that she's evil if I told you she's an accountant?"

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**Author's Note:** So, I've written a lot of fanfiction in my day, but starting in a whole new fandom is kind of scary for me. I'm not going to beg for reviews, because that's not the kind of girl I am, but I am going to say that I would _really_ appreciate feedback. (And if I do something that is canonologically wrong (or even iffy) without explaining it, please feel encouraged to point that out.)

In that canon vein: Eight years of experience because of her time in L.A. In _Graduation Part One_, she said she'd been doing it for four years running. Which means the count of apocalypses for the first three years doesn't include the Season Three apocalypse that Faith helped with (_The Zeppo_), but if you're feeling generous, technically you might grant Kendra a role in averting the Acathla one.


	2. Lie to Me

**Author's Note**: I should say that I am aware that these two chapters do not seem to have much to do with the summary, but I just need to get the characters to a point where vengeance is coming into play. (And it will in the next chapter.) So you should think of this chapter as set-up.

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**Chapter 2—Lie to Me**

_December 2006_

Xander seriously only left Erica alone in his apartment for ten minutes, but when he came back, he found her going through the drawers of his desk. It was a red flag type of behavior, but in five months, she had never given him any reason to think that she was anything other than a slightly crazy C.P.A. Besides, Willow had checked her out, and there was no indication that she was a demon, mummy, bug lady, or anything else not fully human. So he decided to give her the chance to explain before jumping to any conclusions. He cleared his throat. "Whatcha looking for?"

She looked up, startled. "Oh, um... Okay, so..." She rubbed her forehead. "I've been thinking about that shelter for troubled teens, and how some of those teens you have there don't seem so troubled. And how they're all girls, and how a lot of them are not from around here, and some of them don't even speak English that well. And..."

Xander had known since the beginning that the cover story he and Buffy created would not stand up very well to close scrutiny. He was really curious where she was going with this. He wanted to know what conclusions she might have drawn, because maybe they would make for a better cover. "And?"

Erica fidgeted. "Look, I just don't want to be one of those people on the news claiming they had no idea. Because you watch it and you think how could she not have known?"

"Not have known what?"

She took a deep breath. "I was looking for evidence that you and Buffy are running a human trafficking, underage prostitution ring."

Xander burst out laughing. That was definitely not a better cover story. He knew that he should probably tell her the truth. Things were starting to get serious between them, and she would have to know eventually, but something always stopped him. He liked that she was not part of that world. He knew that he was the weakest side of the triangle or the square if he counted Giles. Cordelia had known it, Anya had known it, Chole, the Slayer he briefly dated in Africa, had known it. He could try to tell himself that it was safer to keep her away from that part of his life, but the truth was he liked that Erica did not know anything about any of that. "I promise that's not what it is. The girls, they're not disadvantaged; they're just troubled for other reasons. They're just girls who need some guidance and..." It was difficult to find a way around this. He realized that troubled was not even the right word. "Buffy went through a difficult time when she was about their age, and this is her pet project to help girls who are going through the same kind of thing. But we are not selling anyone into prostitution."

Erica looked at him, skeptical. "Would you tell me if you were?"

There was no real point in answering that. "Go ahead, look through my stuff if that's what it'll take to convince you."

She flipped through a few pages in the drawer, giving them a superficial look. "You probably wouldn't keep any evidence here anyway."

She was right about that. All the demonology texts and books on witchcraft were kept in the locked basement of the facility. He had a few occult related things in the apartment, but there was nothing that would give her any clues as to what was really going on.

She pulled out a piece of paper, examining it in a way that made Xander a little nervous, even though he knew it could not possibly have anything to do with human trafficking or underage prostitution. She turned it around for him to see. "Who's this?"

It was a picture of Anya that he had printed off the internet years before. After she died, he had no photographs of her. Almost everything everyone owned had been destroyed when the Hellmouth was closed. He was able to find one picture of her, on the front page of the Magic Box's website. He forgot that he even had that. "Um, that's Anya."

Erica narrowed her eyes and scrutinized his face. "Who's Anya?" she asked in a laid-back tone that did not match her expression.

"She's..." It was not that complicated a question, but if he started talking about her, then they would have to talk about her. "Someone from Sunnydale who died in the earthquake."

The Sunnydale earthquake was a story everyone had bought. No one had ever doubted that Sunnydale had been swallowed by a self-contained earthquake that affected none of the surrounding areas. After all, what other explanation was there? Xander told Erica that he and Buffy and a few others had stayed in town to help with the evacuation efforts. It was a convenient story. He was even able to honestly say he lost his eye during that time. And now, Anya's death was another thing that could be easily explained away.

Erica looked at the picture again. "Oh. I didn't think there were very many casualties in that one."

Despite how often he did it, Xander did not really like lying to her, so he was glad that he could truthfully say, "It definitely could been worse. We were able to keep the number of deaths relatively low."

"But you couldn't save her?"

That hit Xander like a knife in the gut, which he had actually experienced before. That was another scar chalked up to the earthquake. He knew that Erica probably did not intend that in a mean way. He could see that she was writing her own story, filling the blanks in his. There was an implied second part to that question: And that's the only reason you have a picture of her on printer paper? Still, it was a very blunt assessment of what happened.

Xander swallowed hard and gave her a tight lipped smile. "I guess I couldn't." He took the picture out of her hands and put it back in the drawer. "I don't really want to talk about her."

Erica's eyes lingered on the closed drawer a little longer than necessary. Xander was just grateful that she seemed to have forgotten about her human trafficking theory, at least for the moment.

–

_June 2007_

For some reason, when Xander invited Erica to come along to his birthday celebration, it felt like a big step to her. Rationally, she knew that as his girlfriend of nearly a year, of course she would be invited. It was just that it was going to be a small gathering of Sunnydale people at Buffy's home, and Erica always felt in the back of her mind that Xander was keeping her away from his friends.

Erica knew that was not really fair. She had met all of the people who would be there. She even felt that she and Buffy were kind of friends at this point, but she also felt like she would never really fully know Buffy. Sometimes when Willow was in town, Xander would include Erica, but other times, he would not even tell her Willow was in San Diego until after she was gone. Then there was the incredibly British school librarian that they were all abnormally close to. Erica had met him a couple times, and she had met Buffy's sister and Willow's girlfriend once each.

To be honest, seeing them all together, Erica thought Xander's friends were kind of creepy, and not just because they were hanging around with their high school librarian. On the surface, they seemed like perfectly normal people, but there was an undercurrent of something darker that Erica could not put her finger on. Still, she was happy to be included in their little clique, and she could just attribute the weirdness to the earthquake. Surviving the complete decimation of one's home was sure to leave an emotional mark on a person.

Of course there was another possible cause of the weirdness. Erica tried to stuff it down, but she was still a little concerned about that shelter they were running, which Xander always emphasized was not a "shelter." First of all, what the hell was this "difficult time" all these girls had in common? Erica did not spend a lot of time at the shelter, but when she was there, she could not find any common denominators between them except that they were all athletic females between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. That place was just a mystery that Xander could never explain satisfactorily.

Erica was sitting at the kitchen table with Dawn, who seemed to be the most normal of all of them. There was a vegetable platter on the table, and because of that, they ended up talking about their favorite vegetables. Erica was a big fan of carrots, and Dawn was not. "Well," Erica said, "I guess I just grew up eating them. We always had lots of carrots in the house because of our pet bunnies."

Dawn almost choked on her broccoli. "You had pet bunnies?" she asked, sounding amused.

Erica was confused by the reaction, but she decided to go with it. "Yeah, two of them. Why?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no reason. It's just kind of ironic."

Erica waited a second before diving in. "How is that ironic?"

"Because Anya..." Dawn paused to think about how to phrase it. "Anya had an irrational fear of bunnies."

Erica knew that she had heard that name before. During Dawn's pause, she remembered the printed out picture of the woman who died in the earthquake. Even at the time, Erica had felt that there was more to the story, but she let it go. She told herself that it was one picture, and not even a real one. How well could they have actually known each other? As time went by, she figured if the woman in the picture was important, Xander would have said something about her, so Erica never asked. She was starting to think it might be time to ask. "That's weird."

Dawn smiled. "Well, that's Anya. You're probably the first normal person Xander's ever dated."

Erica had kind of seen that coming. Why else would Dawn compare her to Anya? It was not that big a deal; she knew Xander had dated other women, but it made it seem like he had been hiding something before. "He dated her?" Erica asked casually.

Kennedy swooped in for some celery. "They were engaged. He didn't tell you that?"

Erica's first thought was, _So that would be what he was hiding_. The bombshell was so unexpected that she did not know how to react to the news. "Nope. He never mentioned that." She tried to gather her thoughts. "So they were engaged when she died?"

Dawn's expression suggested that she was very uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Erica looked up at Kennedy, knowing she would have a complete breakdown if the woman said Anya was still alive. Kennedy shook her head. "No, they, uh, they broke it off a while before that. You going to have to ask Xander for the details."

Erica took a deep breath. Okay, a dead ex-fiancee. She could deal with that. Sure, that was one of those things someone in a relationship should probably know after a year, but it was not the most devastating news she could have gotten. She was definitely going to ask Xander for the details though.

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_October 2007_

When Erica pushed for him to talk about Anya, all Xander gave her were simple facts. They broke off the engagement because they were young and things were moving too fast. They met in high school; their first date was prom. It was a nice, mundane story, but it did not tell Erica anything.

It became clear that she was not going to learn anything real about Anya from Xander, so Erica took to asking his friends. She did not get a lot out of them either, but this new one seemed like a talker. Erica had stopped by the shelter to pick up Xander for lunch, and there he was, a nervous, awkward little blond kid. He introduced himself as Andrew, and Erica asked if he was one of the Sunnydale people.

"Oh, yes," Andrew said. "I was one of the few brave souls who stood up to possibly give my life in--"

Xander cleared his throat audibly. "She doesn't want to hear the details."

Erica absolutely wanted to hear the details. She assumed Andrew was speaking of the earthquake evacuation, and Xander never talked about the details of that. Just like so many other things he was unwilling to talk about. "So does that mean that you knew Anya?"

Xander gave her a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Sweetie, you don't have to ask about her every time you meet someone new."

That did not prevent Andrew from speaking. "I knew her. I was with her when she died."

Erica normally would have asked about Anya when Xander was not around, but she was not sure if she was going to get another chance to talk to Andrew. "What was she like?"

Andrew got a dreamy look on his face. "She was incredible. A luminescent beauty whose strength and grace shone on everyone she touched."

That was not really what Erica had wanted to hear. Xander rubbed his forehead uncomfortably. At that moment, Buffy walked up and asked, "Who was?"

"Anya," Erica answered.

Buffy smiled, as though not quite in full agreement with Andrew's assessment. "She was... one of a kind, that's for sure."

"Yes, okay," Xander said. "We're leaving." He took Erica by the shoulders and tried to steer her out the front door.

Erica stubbornly stood her ground. "But that means that she got to be part of your exclusive little club, right? I bet he was never steering her out of the room." She turned to Xander. "If Anya were here, would she know what this place really is?"

Buffy looked at Xander over Erica's head. "Is she drunk?" she whispered, like Erica would not be able to hear her.

Xander shook his head with an amused, patronizing look on his face. "No, just crazy. It's apparently my type." He looked down at Erica. "Let's go. You only get an hour for lunch. You want to waste it here?"

Erica felt like maybe it would be worth it to spend a little more time at the shelter, but this time she let Xander pull her outside, even though he had just called her crazy.

–

_March 2008_

Xander was not really looking for the picture of Anya. In the spirit of spring cleaning, he was going through the papers in his desk in an attempt to clear out the clutter, and it just occurred to him that there used to be a print out of Anya's picture in there. He called out to Erica in the other room. "Did you move the picture of Anya?"

There was a long pause before she finally called back, "I threw it away a couple months ago."

Xander got up from his desk, thinking that he must have misheard her. He walked into the bedroom where Erica was reading a finance magazine. "You did what?"

She did not look up. "I threw it away. You never like to talk about her; I figured you wouldn't want to have to see her either."

Xander decided to proceed rationally and not give in to the crazy. "Look, I understand that you're a little upset about the fact that I waited so long before telling you about her, but--"

Erica threw down the magazine "You didn't tell me about her! Kennedy did, someone I barely even know."

"Okay, and I understand that you're still mad about that." He paused to figure out how to explain without driving her crazy. "Anya was someone I loved, a lot, and she died. And it's really not something I like to talk about. But that was the only picture I had of her. Without that, I have nothing left of her. So please tell me that you did not really throw it away."

Erica stared at him for a long time without speaking. "It's not just her, you know. There are a lot of things you don't like to talk about."

"Okay." Xander found it disturbing that she had not addressed the subject at hand. "About the picture though?"

She got up on her knees. "Like the underage brothel you're running with your super hot best friend. Would Anya have been okay with that?"

It had been well over a year since she brought up the human trafficking, and Xander thought she had given up on that theory, partly because she was still with him. "It's not a brothel! Where are you getting that from?"

She looked at him like he was the crazy one. "From all the pretty, fit girls. If it's not a brothel, what is it? Oh, right, you're not going to tell me."

She did have a legitimate point, but it was too late for the truth. She would not believe him if he started talking about vampires and Slayers now. "It's exactly what I always told you it was, a place for troubled girls to go where they can get help and understanding."

Erica narrowed her eyes. "I heard one of them refer to you as the watcher. What does that even mean? What are you watching?"

He did not like how she made it sound so sinister. "I don't know. I guess I watch the girls, like a counselor or something. Maybe watcher's like a British term for it. "

Erica latched onto that. "Oh, speaking of British, what's the deal with Giles?"

Xander did not even know what that meant. "He was--"

"The school librarian, I know. I can't even remember the name of my high school librarian. And no offense, Xander, but I find it really hard to believe that you spent that much time in the library. You don't strike me as particularly studious; you didn't even go to college. And yet--"

Xander interrupted her. "Can I just say that I love having that thrown in my face in the middle of an argument."

She ignored him and pressed on with her rantings. "But somehow you became best friends with the guy. Oh, and he's definitely involved in whatever the shelter is. Didn't all that friendship start around the same time as Buffy's 'difficult time' that binds all the girls together?"

"Are you suggesting that you think Giles recruited Buffy into underage prostitution in high school? Do you know how insane that sounds?" Again, Xander knew the truth would sound so much crazier than that. "You've been to the facility many times. Does it really look like we're running a brothel?"

She hesitated. "It's clear that the girls aren't being forced into anything. Beyond that, I can't really say."

Xander was pretty sure that she did not actually believe any of this. "Okay, I can't talk to you when you're like this." He turned to leave the room.

"Could you talk to Anya when she was like this?" she asked from behind him. "Oh, no, I forgot, she was perfect."

That actually reminded Xander of his original reason for going in there, but he did not go back. He thought it was safe to assume that she had really thrown away the picture.

–

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**Author's Note:** It probably goes without saying, but as an accountant, Erica obviously went to college.


	3. Doomed

**Author's Note**: From here, there is no more date stamping. It's around five years after the finale.

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**Chapter 3—Doomed**

_July 2008_

Xander and Erica were lounging on his couch in an amicable silence. They had just finished watching a movie and the DVD menu was playing dramatic music. Erica picked up the remote and turned off the player and television. "So I've been thinking," she said.

Xander foolishly assumed that she had been thinking about where they would go for dinner, a question that had been left in the air before the movie. It was almost eight on a Friday night, and Xander was sure that most places would be packed. "Why don't we just order something in?"

"What?" She sat up straight. "No. I mean, okay, but that's not what I was thinking about."

"Then what were you thinking?" he asked warily. Something about the way she was beginning this conversation put him on alert.

She fidgeted a little. "I think... No." She shook her head and began again. "As your accountant, it's occurred to me that we are both just wasting money renting. With the way the real estate market is, it'll be bottoming out soon, and I think we should think about buying a place together."

She was looking at him with expectant eyes, but Xander did not know what to say to that. "Oh, um... That's... sudden."

Her face fell a little. "Not really. We've been dating for two years, almost to the day. Don't you see this relationship progressing?"

Xander honestly was not prepared for this big relationship talk. "Progressing? Um..."

She got to her feet. "Xander, I want to get married and have children, and I'm not getting any younger. I need to know where this is going."

"Right." He took a second to think about it. He felt certain that they had talked about this before. "I—I don't want any of that. I don't just mean with you, but in general. I don't want to get married or have children. I thought you knew that."

"No." She shook her head fiercely. " No, I didn't. I actually had no idea that you felt that way. I mean, you were going to marry Anya."

He hated the way she did that. Every time anything happened that Erica did not like, she brought up Anya. Here, it was not even a good comparison. "Well, actually, I broke off the engagement, so--"

"So I should have known that if you wouldn't marry your perfect Anya, I didn't have a shot in hell?"

Xander took a deep breath. Maybe she was a little right about that, not the way she phrased it but the general idea. What happened with Anya probably did have a lot to do with why he thought he would never get married. "That's not what I was saying. I just--"

She would not let him finish. "No, because she was so perfect. A luminescent beauty that I could never live up to."

"I didn't say that. If you knew Andrew, he's just--" Andrew's melodrama was not the point. "I'm not the one who keeps bringing her up. I've never once compared you to her."

"Not out loud. Not to my face." She was pacing, working herself up. "Let me just ask you this. If you loved her so much, why didn't you save her?"

Xander let that sink in for a second. "What?"

She stopped in front of him. "You were there, evacuating Sunnydale, and you couldn't even save the one person you allegedly loved so much? How is it that you managed to get out in time and she didn't?" Erica did not even seem to be aware of how close she was to crossing a line.

Xander felt his face hardening. "You have no idea what happened that day."

"Because you won't tell me! So just tell me, if you loved Anya, why'd you let her die?"

Xander was stunned. He had taken all of her crazy accusations in stride up to that point, but he could not believe she would take her jealousy and insecurity this far. He got up from the couch and took her arm to drag her to the door. "I think you should go now."

Erica dug in her heels. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought up Anya."

That was definitely true. Xander let go of her arm. "Don't say her name. Don't ever say her name again."

Erica winced a little, but Xander did not care if he was being too harsh, not after what she just said. "I was just trying to point out that you guys didn't have this great, untouchable love. You left her at the altar; she probably hated you. Dead or alive, you wouldn't be with her now."

Xander was struck by two related thoughts. One was that he never told her that he left Anya on their wedding day. He wondered which one of his friends had let that slip. The other thought was that she had no idea what she was talking about, and Anya did not hate him by the end. Still, he could not help wondering if she had gotten that from someone else too. It did not matter anymore. He folded his arms. "I really want you to leave now."

"We have to talk about this."

She was calming down, speaking to him like a rational adult again, but it did not make a difference to Xander. He needed time before he was going to be able to talk to her about this. Right now, when he looked at her, all he could think about was her latest and worst accusation. "No, I don't think we do. I think you've said plenty, and I really don't want to hear any more from you. Just go."

"For how long?"

Xander did not really have a set time frame in mind. "I don't care."

Erica's eyes grew wide. "Are we really breaking up? Over _her_?"

At first, Xander was going to say that they were not breaking up, that he just needed time. But then she brought up Anya again. He shook his head. "This has nothing to do with—very little to do with her. You want the truth, Erica? I don't feel the same way about you that I felt about her. I don't want to marry you. I don't to buy real estate with you. Right now, I don't even want to look at you."

"Xander...," she pleaded.

He went over to the door and opened it for her. "Get out."

She shook her head. "I don't want to break up."

Xander shrugged, not ready to confirm or deny the break up at this point. "I'm not sure you have a choice anymore."

Her expression grew mean again. "You're only doing this because you know I'm right. If you really loved her, you would have gotten her out. You wouldn't have let her die."

"I didn't _let_ her die!" Up to that point, Xander had tried not to engage, but it just burst out of him. "I didn't let her do anything. She made her own choices, and she was brave and amazing."

Erica rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, it was just an earthquake!"

That was the moment he knew that it had to be over. Her repetition of the lie just reminded Xander of all the things that were wrong in the relationship. It was not just that she was crazy and mean, but also that she did not belong in his world. It was time to end it. "Maybe what Anya and I had wasn't untouchable, but you'll never touch it. So just leave."

"Fine!" Erica stormed out the open door.

–

Calreg slid her pendant back and forth on its chain. She hated pulling scorned lovers. Her usual gig was victims of crime, and unless she was working a domestic violence, these women's problems always seemed so trivial. Calreg did not care if some man cheated on his wife. She didn't care if a boy used a girl for sex. But it was important to be "well rounded," so she took the assignments like a champ.

This one though, Erica, she was the most trivial one yet. He hadn't cheated on her; he wasn't using her. He just got sick of her and dumped her. Good riddance, move on to the next sap. Being the youngest in the vengeance fold, Calreg often got stupid assignments, but this time it felt to her that she was being punished for complaining about the romance jobs. This was D'Hoffryn's way of saying, "You will do whatever I tell you to do." And Calreg would. She just wished the woman would get to the point.

All she had to do was say that one magic word, but no, she wanted to drink and complain. And Calreg had to sit there and sympathize and be understanding until she finally made her wish. At least the romance jobs usually came with cocktails. She downed the rest of her martini.

"I wasted two years of my life on that man. I mean, I'm almost thirty; I don't have a lot of child bearing years left."

Calreg nodded and murmured sympathetically. "Yeah, don't you wish--"

Erica twisted back and forth on her barstool. "I guess I should have known better. He's a total commitment phobe. Did I tell you he left a woman at the altar once?"

This was starting to sound a little more worthy, the man if not the situation. "Then why would you want to marry him?"

She played with the straw in her fruity, frozen drink. "I don't know. I guess I thought it would be different with me. I always got the impression that she was kind of off. They never said it, but I think most of his friends weren't that crazy about her. I thought I was different. And I was, but not in the right way. Not in a way that would make him love me. I just wish..."

She trailed off, which was very frustrating, and put her head down on the bar. Calreg patted her on the back, but she did not understand this woman. She was emitting a need for vengeance; that was the only reason Calreg was there. It just did not seem like she wanted it anymore. Calreg supposed it was her job to push, being a demon and all. "Wish what? That his intestines would burst? That he'd turn into a toad and you could step on him?"

Erica's face was still buried in her arms and her voice came out muffled. "I just want him to know how it feels."

"The intestines or being a toad?" Calreg had given up hope that this was going to be an interesting one, but now it seemed like there might still be a chance of bloodshed. "I think it might be cathartic to say it out loud."

Erica sat up straight and laughed. "No, neither of those." She shook her head a little. "I just wish... I wish he could get his precious Anya back so that she could break his heart over and over again."

Calreg waited for more, but Erica seemed to be done. "That's it?" she asked, nonplussed.

"Yeah. You know that was a little cathartic. Thanks."

Calreg looked down and sighed. It was not a proper wish, but she did not care anymore. Erica and her boring problems could get their boring wish, and Calreg could move on with her vengeance. She raised her head, demon-faced. "Done."

–

–

**Author's Note:** Okay, vengeance demons. The mythology surrounding them is somewhat inconsistent. I can use canon to support the choices I make, but I can also point to canon that contradicts them. It's all about distinguishing fact patterns. (Also, Calreg has different personality traits than Anya and Halfrek, so that makes a difference too.)


	4. The Wish

–

**Chapter 4—The Wish**

Erica's first thought was, _What the hell is wrong with that woman's face?_ One minute they had been talking, and suddenly everything was weird. "Done? What do you mean done?"

Before Erica could even finish her question, the woman's eyes rolled back in her veiny face and she fell off her barstool. Erica looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this, but no one in the bar seemed to care that a woman had just fainted. They probably just thought she was blackout drunk. Erica climbed down from her stool and shook the woman's shoulder.

The woman's face went back to normal the second she opened her eyes, making Erica wonder if she had imagined the whole thing. The woman put her hands to her forehead. "Oh, that's embarrassing. I've never had that happen before." She tried to raise her head and then slowly laid it back down. "Whoa, that one took a lot out of me. Why would..."

Erica helped the woman sit up. "What did you mean, done? What just happened?"

The woman was distracted. She felt her chest, covering up her necklace in the process. "I granted your wish." She shook her head as though trying to remember what that was. "I gave him back Anya to break his heart."

That was very clearly ridiculous. The woman must have been insane to think that she could grant wishes. Erica should have patted her shoulder and then gotten the hell away from this crazy woman, but instead she followed her down the rabbit hole. "You're saying that you brought her back from the dead?"

The woman's eyes went wide. "You never said she was dead!"

Erica nodded, mostly humoring the woman. "So that makes a difference then? Do you have rules, like the genie in Aladdin?"

The woman thought about that as she got up to her feet. "I have no idea what the rules are about this. I've never tried it before. Um, but the wish was granted. Otherwise, I wouldn't have--" She gestured at the floor behind her. "And that explains that. I think this is going to be okay. It's just one human. It'll just be some paperwork, right?"

Erica shrugged. "Sure."

The woman nodded to herself. "Right. Just to help things along, how did she die?"

Erica did not know the specifics. She always imagined that Anya was crushed or something. "She died in the Sunnydale earthquake. The big one. I don't know anything more than that."

"The Sunnydale—_The_ Sunnydale earthquake?" The woman laughed. "Oh, you stupid girl. That wasn't an earthquake." Something occurred to her. "Oh, god, I brought back one of _them_." And then, before Erica could ask any more, the woman disappeared into thin air.

Erica looked around again, but no one was paying attention. Her eyes settled on her drink on the bar. She wished she could blame it all on the alcohol, but there was just no way she was that drunk. The only thing she could think to do was talk to Xander, but Xander never gave her any answers on a good day, and she was sure that he was not in a very cooperative mood at the moment. She shook her head. He would just think she was crazy. Then again, that would not be any different than usual.

–

Buffy sat on the half wall outside the training facility, looking out on the sidewalk and swinging her legs. It was a nice night, and she was glad that she had decided to go outside to take Xander's phone call. "I don't remember exactly what I told her about Anya, but I really don't think I brought up what happened at the wedding."

"Did you tell her that Anya hated me?"

"No." Buffy shook her head unnecessarily. "I can't imagine who would have said that."

"She probably came up with it on her own. It's a natural conclusion." Xander was quiet for a while. "She said I let Anya die."

He sounded so sad when he said it, but Buffy could not imagine that he would actually think that was true. "Xander, that's ridiculous. Obviously..." It took her a second to remember that Erica did not know anything about their life. She had understood his decision to keep it from Erica; she remembered dating as a young Slayer. She was just amazed he had managed to keep it going this long. "She just doesn't know what happened, but Anya's death was not your fault."

"I know. I know that. It's not..." He did not finish, but it sounded like maybe he was not so sure.

Buffy kicked out her legs again. "You remember what she told Andrew, what she said about humanity? And it wasn't her first apocalypse. She knew what she was signing up for. She knew the risks. We all knew, and it could have just as easily been any one of us."

"I know," he repeated. After a second, he said, "This is stupid. I've made my peace with it. I wouldn't even think about her so much if Erica didn't keep bringing her up at every turn. It's like Erica's the one who won't let me move on. She just keeps reminding me that I already had a love of my life and that maybe I don't get to have another one."

As someone who loved and lost the One pretty early on in her life, Buffy did not like hearing Xander talk like that. "I don't think it works that way. I mean, it might seem like that now, but that doesn't mean that you can't love someone else too. It won't be the same, but..." She tried to think of how to put this delicately. "She didn't hate you anymore, but you were still broken up when she died. Even if she was still alive, you guys wouldn't be together."

"That's what Erica said," he murmured. "I think... I think maybe we would be though. I still loved her; she still loved me. We still... connected a couple times."

"Yes," Buffy said to keep him from elaborating. The one thing she did not miss about Anya was all the sex talk. "I heard about the basement."

Xander made a humming sound that told her he was going to elaborate anyway. "The basement was where we decided it was really over, but then it happened again, in the kitchen. And we--"

She felt the need to stop him right there. "When you say the kitchen, you mean at your apartment, right?"

There was an awkward silence from the other end of the line. Finally, he said, "Sure." It was obvious he was lying, and Buffy gave a shudder of disgust. She used to eat in that kitchen. Xander continued. "And we didn't really talk about it afterwards, but I felt like it was something significant. It was just that we couldn't get back together in the midst of an apocalypse. We got engaged during an apocalypse; she wouldn't have trusted that it was real."

Buffy did not know what she could say to that. She felt that maybe he did not want to relive his last few days with Anya, so she tried to change the subject. "So you and Erica are splitsville, huh?"

"I should have just married her."

Buffy had not seen that coming. It seemed that he might be thinking of marrying Erica for the wrong reasons, and she felt the need to point that out. "Xander, I don't think--"

"I would have, if I'd know that it was just going to be for a year. I could have made it work for a year."

Then she realized that he was not talking about Erica, and it all made a lot more sense. "There was no way to know that though."

He proceeded like he had not heard her. "Maybe if we'd eloped. If we hadn't had the pressure of the big wedding and if my family hadn't been there... She probably wouldn't have wanted that kind of wedding. But think about how much better things would have been if I'd gone through with it. She wouldn't have become a demon again. You wouldn't have tried to kill her. I wouldn't have been stabbed by a crazy cat-eyed demon lady. She wouldn't have slept with _Spike_." He said the name like it was offensive to him. "We could have been happy for a year. If only I'd known."

Buffy wanted to help him, but she could not really argue with what he was saying. She had never been a fan of the whole walking out on his wedding day thing. "Her demon powers were really helpful when Willow went dark. After Tara... You know, maybe you should talk to Willow about this. All my dead ex-lovers came back. And they were dead to start with. And I'm not doing that well for myself." This was starting to get depressing. "But Willow, she's managed to find something good with Kennedy. Maybe she could help you."

"Yeah." He sounded thoughtful. "She was actually a big help back when it happened. And yeah, she has Kennedy, but..."

He continued talking, but Buffy stopped paying attention because there was something much more important happening on the sidewalk. Walking toward her was a woman who looked remarkably like the deceased subject of their conversation. Buffy shook her head to make sure that she was not just seeing similarities because Anya was so on her mind, but the woman looked exactly like how Buffy remembered Anya. Buffy interrupted "Xander , I'm sorry to do this to you, but I have to go. Something potentially huge just came up."

"Do you need me to come in?"

That was the last thing Buffy wanted. "No, not yet. Let me just figure out what's going on, and I'll fill you in later."

"Okay," Xander said, and he hung up.

Buffy did not actually believe this was Anya coming up the sidewalk, but she still felt the need to investigate further. She jumped down from the wall so that she would be able to intercept the woman.

The woman was walking slowly, looking around at her surroundings like she was very confused by them. Buffy had seconds to decide how to initiate a conversation. She went with a direct approach. "Hey, didn't we go to high school together?"

Probably-Not-Anya looked down on her like she was a homeless person begging for change. "I don't think so."

That was a very definitive response. Buffy should have been happy to leave it at that because people did not come back from the dead every day. Except, in Buffy's experience, they kind of did. And on top of her looks, this woman also sounded a lot like Anya. "Are you sure? Where did you go to high school?"

Without answering, Probably-Not-Anya continued walking down the sidewalk. Buffy was vacillating between following her and letting her go when Probably-Not-Anya stopped and backtracked to where Buffy was standing. She looked confused again. "Just to check, where did you go?"

"Sunnydale High School. Back when there was a Sunnydale, California." Probably-Not-Anya did not say anything, so Buffy continued. She figured that if she put it all out there, they should be able to clear things up. "I'm Buffy Summers. You're Anya, right? Anya Jenkins?"

She shook her head hesitantly. "No, that's... I'm sure that's not my name."

"You don't know your name?" Buffy felt that it was becoming more likely this woman was Anya.

"Of course I know my name. It's not Anya Jenkins. It's... um,... I know my name," she said in a very confrontational tone. "And I'm not from Sunnydale."

"Okay." Buffy shrugged and hopped back onto the wall. "My mistake. So where are you from?"

The woman scoffed and made like she was going to walk away again, but then she grew pensive. She came up to where Buffy was sitting. "'I'm not entirely sure. But those names and places, they don't sound right. I mean, they—I don't..." She took a deep breath. "You can't know me, if I don't know you."

Buffy thought about that for a second. "So are you saying that you have amnesia, but you won't even consider that you might be the girl I went to high school with? Because I gotta say, that sounds like Anya." Mostly Buffy just wanted to keep her talking, but it did seemed a little bit like Anya to be that stubborn.

Still-Probably-Not-Anya pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. She was clearly ready to dig in her heels on this identity thing. "I'm not saying that I have amnesia, and I'm not this Anya. I told you, I know my name. It's..." There was the slightest pause. "Christina. Chris—Chr—Christina Emmanuel." She seemed really satisfied that she had been able to come up with something. "And... and I moved around a lot, so it's hard to pinpoint just one place to say I'm from, but it's definitely not Sunnydale."

"Okay." Buffy still was not convinced one way or the other. "Well, if you change your mind about that, I run this facility, and you can usually find me here."

Christina made a few jerky movement like she was unsure whether she should just walk away. "I'm not going to change my mind." She shook her head and turned to go on her way, finally leaving Buffy and their strange conversation behind.

Buffy did not know what she was going to tell Xander, but she knew that whatever she went with, he was not going to be happy that the ball was entirely in this Christina Emmanuel's court. She climb down from the wall and poked her head into the facility. "Deidre, come here," she said, calling over the first girl she saw. Deidre obliged. "I want you to follow that woman in the turtleneck and tell me where she goes. Don't engage though, because she's not a—probably not a demon."

Deidre ran off to embark on her assignment, and Buffy felt satisfied, knowing that she had done all she could, short of actually kidnapping the woman.

–

–

**Author's Note: **Generally, the only people who died in the "earthquake" were Slayers, and that's what Calreg is thinking up there.

In talking about getting back together during an apocalypse, Xander is specifically thinking about what Anya said in _Two to Go_. "[If things get rough...] Let me guess, you'll propose?"


	5. Into the Woods

**Chapter 5—Into the Woods **

As soon as she left the bar, Calreg went to the sister demon she considered her closest friend. She was much older, with over four hundred years of experience, and she would know what to do. Calreg explained that she might have kind of brought someone back from the dead. And that someone might have possibly been a Slayer, because of the, um, little Sunnydale connection. How big a deal would that be? Her friend wanted more details.

Calreg did not think that she had any details that would be useful. It was not as if any of them knew all the names of the fallen Slayers. "All I know is that the one I brought back died in the Sunnydale earthquake. She was named Anya, and her ex-boyfriend was named... Xander?"

Her friend held up a hand, looking very serious. "Anya and Xander? From Sunnydale?"

"Yeah." Calreg missed drama on her friend's face when she repeated the names. Something else had occurred to her. "Oh! He left her at the altar."

"I know," her friend said. "I was at that wedding." She shook her head as though she really could not believe Calreg had not figured it out. "You brought back Anyanka."

–

No more than a minute after he hung up with Buffy, there was a knock on Xander's door. He got up to check the peephole and found that Erica had returned. He sighed and opened the door. "When I said I didn't care how long you stayed away, I was thinking it would be more than a half hour."

Erica pushed her way into the apartment. "I think I did something stupid."

Xander was glad she realized that, but it was still too soon for him. "Yeah, you did, but I really don't want to talk about it any more right now."

"Oh, right." There was something about her eyes that made her seem crazier than usual. "That. I don't really think you... killed her or whatever I said. You know me. I'm always saying crazy things and putting my foot in my mouth. I once accused you of being involved in human trafficking, remember?"

Xander nodded. "It was actually more than once, but yeah, I remember. But even if we put aside all the Anya stuff, which I am not yet willing to do, we have other problems. You still want to get married and have kids, and I don't."

Erica made a pssh sound and waved her hand. "That's not that big a deal in the long run."

There was definitely something up with her. He found it hard to believe that she was that into him that she was willing to sacrifice everything she wanted in order to keep him. "It's kinda the biggest deal there is in a relationship. It's actually known as the dealbreaker in popular circles. And I have some experience with broken engagements and wanting different things. There's no future here." He decided this might be a good time to ask something that had been bothering him for a while. "Why would you even want to be with someone that you think likes to watch teenage girls prostitute themselves out anyway?"

Erica laughed, slightly hysterically. "See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Crazy." She pointed to her head and made a twirling motion. Then her face turned very serious. "But speaking of your experience with this engagement thing, will you please tell me what happened the day of the earthquake?" She sat on the couch. "It was an earthquake, right?"

Xander sat down with her. He was a little thrown by her uncertainty about the earthquake. She had never questioned that before. "Why do you ask?"

Erica attempted a brave smile. "Okay, please don't think I'm crazy, but--"

She was interrupted by a _Poof_. Standing in what used to be Xander's empty foyer was a vengeance demon. The face and necklace were a dead giveaway. All this time without Erica running into one demon or vampire, and this one had to show up now. She approached the couch with her finger extended. "Did you know she was Anyanka?"

Xander stood. "Look, I don't know what this is about, but--"

The demon cut him off with a shake of her head. "Did you know?" she asked again, emphasizing every word.

Xander glanced back at Erica, who looked terrified. He just had to deal with this, and then he could figure out what to tell her. "Yes, I knew, obviously."

"No, not--" The demon looked more closely at him. She pointed to his eye. "Oh, Xander Harris, right? With the... I'm Calreg, by the way." She held out her veiny hand to him, but then she seemed to think better of it. "Of course you knew." She turned to Erica. "But did _you_ know that she was Anyanka?"

Xander moved to block Erica from Calreg. "She doesn't know anything. She has nothing to do with this. Whatever your problem is--"

Calreg cackled. "Oh, I have problems, Xander."

Xander was not sure what that had to do with him. "Were you a friend of hers? Is that why you're here? Because I'm not really in the business of helping demons with their problems." Xander briefly closed his one good eye to mentally curse himself. He had meant to leave the D word out of this.

"No, of course you aren't," she murmured. She leaned over to get another look at Erica. "Did you at least know that that he's a close associate of the Slayer?"

Xander could not worry about Erica right now. "There are hundreds of Slayers."

Calreg smiled. "Yes, and each one of them is _a_ Slayer, but Buffy Summers is _the_ Slayer, You know that. Hell, that was all before my time, and even I know what a game changer that was. And you were a part of that." She sounded a little bit like she was in awe of him. She turned back to Erica. "Do you have any idea how important he is?"

"Why do you keep asking her if she--" Then it hit Xander what was really going on. "You mean when she made the wish. Did she know when she made the wish?" He followed Calreg's gaze to Erica curled up on the couch. "You made a wish to a vengeance demon?"

Erica shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Xander closed his eye. Whose fault was it that she did not know about vengeance demons? He tried to sound less confrontational. "What did you wish for?"

"I didn't wish for anything!"

He looked back at Calreg who was shaking her head in disagreement. "She did." Calreg did not seem to be very interested in that. "So I wasn't friends with Anyanka. Like I said, I'm newer than that. But I've heard of her. She was legendary. I even—" She took a couple steps toward Xander. "I heard about what happened at the frat house. A lot of my sister demons, they don't get it, but I do. You still loved her. Even with all of this--" She gestured at her own face. "--you still wanted to save her. I don't know, maybe I'm too new and I haven't lost enough of my romanticism, but... it sounds almost like a fairy tale to me. As close as a vengeance demon can get anyway. There are some things the brochure doesn't make clear." She realized she was getting off topic. "The point is, I know about you, and I think you've suffered enough. So I'm sorry about what's coming."

For Xander, her entire speech had been somewhat unnerving, but the end was particularly troubling. "So undo it."

She shook her head sadly. "It's not that simple. We're talking about life and death, and it gets complicated when those enter the picture. Besides--" She gave a wry smile. "We're demons; we're not really in the business of helping humans with their problems, regardless of how we may hold ourselves out."

Xander understood exactly what she meant. He had seen the way wishes often backfired on the wisher. "What was the wish?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Xander decided it was time to make a desperate bid and trade on his one innate gift, his attractiveness to female demons. "But I'm not just any human. I'm important, like you said. The prince in your twisted vengeance demon fairy tale, right?"

It was clear that she was moved by this plea, but it was not enough. "Yeah, well, as it turns out, I'm the wicked witch. And the problem with the story is that you never actually saved the girl, Xander. And you should know that you won't be able to this time either. I'm sorry."

Xander wanted to tell her that sorry was not good enough, but they weren't friends and a little hero-worship of Anyanka was not going to change that. "What girl?"

Calreg popped out without giving an answer. Xander turned back to Erica. "What did you wish for?"

"Nothing," she said with wide, innocent eyes.

Xander did not believe her. He went for his phone and hit the redial button. "I have to call Buffy." Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, he asked, "Will you at least tell me which girl you cursed?"

Erica hemmed and hawed. By the time it seemed like she might be willing to tell him something, Buffy had answered her phone. Her voice was a little strained, and it was then that he remembered Buffy had ended their last conversation because something potentially huge was going on. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Look, it's probably nothing."

Buffy was hedging, and Xander was getting tired of everyone skirting around the issues at hand. "Just tell me."

"Um, okay. I don't know the best way to say this, so I'm just going to go for it." She paused, and Xander waited impatiently for her to continue. "I ran into a woman on the street tonight, and she said her name was Christina Emmanuel, but it took her a while to come up with that name and she didn't know where she went to high school. And the thing is--"

"It was Anya," Xander interrupted. The pieces were coming together. Calreg kept asking if Erica knew that _she_ was Anyanka, and she said this was a matter of life and death. It seemed so obvious now. If Erica was going to make a wish about any woman in his life, that was who it would be. He was still confused on the details, but he knew. "That was her name."

"What?" Buffy sounded confused. "What do you mean, that was her name?"

He sighed. He was probably the only person who would even remember this. "Her name was Anya _Christina Emmanuela_ Jenkins. It was Anya."

"Oh. Okay, yeah." Buffy made it sound like it all made sense to her now, but Xander did not know how that was possible. She continued, "She was very insistent that she couldn't be who I thought she was, and then after a few attempts to remember her name, she pulled that one out of thin air."

With the identity of the girl established, Xander tried to remember what else Calreg had said. He settled on the part about not being able to save her. "Where is she now?"

"I don't know exactly. I had to let her go, but I have Deidre tailing her."

Xander almost hung up with Buffy on the spot so that he could call Deidre. He probably would have done it if he had any idea what Deidre's cell phone number was. "So you're at the facility? She just left on the street outside the facility? I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Xander, the name, all of it, it might just be a coincidence. How could she be back after all these years? And if she is back..." Buffy paused. "She may not be someone we want to know anymore."

He understood exactly what she was implying, but she did not have all the facts. "Actually, I have a pretty good idea what happened. I'll explain when I get there."

As soon as he hung up the phone, Erica said, "I don't understand what's going on. Did that woman actually... Is Anya alive?"

Xander wanted to tell her to get with the program. She did this; she should be able to figure out what was happening. He tried to be patient though, grant her a learning curve. "It's looking that way. Which is weird because Andrew saw her get sliced in half."

Erica hesitated like she already knew the answer to her question. "In an earthquake?"

Xander shook his head and turned away to look for his keys. "In an epic battle between good and evil. A game changer."

Erica stretched out her legs and stood up. "So let me get this straight. There is such a thing as demons, and you fight epic battles against them? And Buffy... You and Buffy run like a school for demon fighting teenagers. Huh. That actually makes way more sense than a brothel."

Keys in hand, Xander started to usher Erica toward the door. "Yeah, and we are obviously going to talk more about this later, but right now, I have to find Anya." He stopped. "Any chance you're finally willing to tell me what the wish was?"

Erica was lost in her own thoughts. She shrugged. "Something about getting her back to break your heart. I wasn't really paying attention; I didn't know that I was talking to a wicked witch. But so your Anya was really this... Anka?"

"Anyanka," he corrected. He went back to his ushering. "It's more complicated than that."

Erica refused to move. "Yeah, I bet. I mean, there you were, a close associate of _the_..." She was unable to recall the title. "...of Buffy, and this legendary demon came along. And somehow you fell in love with her. How does that happen? I mean, what, did you guys have some kind of grand Romeo and Juliet-esque love affair?"

Xander could see how it might seem that way, especially with Calreg saying it was like a fairy tale, but that was pretty much not at all what happened. "No. We met in school, we went to the prom. She left after high school, or technically right before graduation, but after a few months she came back, and she wanted to start something up." These were the same things he had always told her. "It was really as ordinary as all that."

"No." Erica shook her head. "There has to be more to it than that. That Car-rig knew about you two from the stories that circulate. Anka was _legendary_. By the time she died, you were apparently already _important_. Which, I mean, I had no idea."

Xander chose to take that at face value and not as an insult. The truth was that he was not so much important as he was associated with important people. "Me neither. It was nice to hear." With an arm around her waist, he pulled Erica out of the apartment so that he could lock up behind her. "Look, it wasn't really the way she made it sound. Anya was well known in the vengeance fold, but overall... It's not like we're famous. Buffy is, but the rest of us? We're just bit players in the fight against evil."

"Right." Erica nodded thoughtfully. "So if she was a demon, what side was she on in that epic battle?"

Xander was starting to notice that all of her questions still revolved around Anya. In a way, it was understandable, but he was losing patience. "I promise I will explain all of this, the demons, the Slayers, the Watchers, all of it, later. But I have to deal with the fact that Anya's supposed to break my heart, and vengeance demons tend to take these things literally." He tried to encourage Erica to go down the stairs.

She was oblivious. "Right, vengeance demons like Anka. Now, based on the one I met, I kind of get the impression that they are on the evil side. So in that battle, when she died... Did you—did you let her die? Did you have to because of what she was?"

This time when she said, it didn't sound mean. It sounded like she felt sympathy for him. It did not make it any less frustrating that she had gone back to that idea. "She fought on our side. And it wouldn't have mattered to me that she was a demon. Like that day at the frat house, I wasn't going to let... I wouldn't let her die, demon or not. I didn't know her as Anyanka. She was just Anya. But I knew," he said to stop the next question. "I knew that she had been this... legendary demon, terrorizing mankind for centuries. But that's not who she was when I was with her."

This got Xander thinking about Anya, about when he was with her, about the day at the frat house. He was just wasting time here. He needed to find Anya. He went around Erica to get to the stairs, not caring whether she was following him or not. He heard her footsteps behind him, so he thought maybe he should say something else. "I'm sorry to leave you hanging with a very little information about the whole demon thing, but..."

"But she's the priority," Erica finished for him, sounding only slightly bitter. "I understand. She's always been the priority."

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around. "It's not just that. I've seen people come back from the dead, and it is never a pretty sight. I need to..." He realized right then that Erica was right. Push come to shove, Anya would always be the priority for him. Erica probably deserved to have him acknowledge that. "Yeah. I mean, it's _Anya_."

Erica gave a brave smile. "Yeah, it's Anya." She gave a small shake of her head. "Go, save the girl."

That reminded him of what Calreg had said, that he couldn't save the girl. Not at the frat house, not in the final battle, and not now. He was not really worried about the wish being taken literally. His physical heart was probably safe from being ripped out or cut in half or anything. After all, he knew the playbook. Why go for the kill when you can go for the pain? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Anya was out there, somewhere, alive. So without another word to Erica, he got in his car and headed for the facility.

–

–

**Author's** **Note:** I think Xander's important for more than just being friends with the Slayer and a super powerful witch, but that was from his perspective. Whenever Xander denigrates himself, that's his own insecurity. I think he's great.

"Into the Woods" is a musical about fairy tales. That's mostly why I chose to use it here.


	6. Selfless

**Chapter 6—Selfless**

Xander made record time in getting to the facility. Buffy was standing on the curb talking on the phone. As soon as he pulled up, she closed her phone and hopped into the passenger's seat. "They went that way," she said pointing in the direction he had just come from.

Xander made a loop around the block to get going in the right direction. Even though he was going well above the speed limit on his way there, he had tried to keep an eye out for pedestrians that could be Anya. He knew he would feel pretty stupid if it turned out that he had driven right past her. "Was that Deidre?" he asked, referring to her call.

Buffy looked down at the phone. "No, I should probably call her." As she scrolled through her contacts, she said, "It was Willow. I thought we might need her here." She put the phone up to her ear. "So you said you know what's happening?"

Xander started to answer, but Buffy shushed him. "Okay, where are you?" she asked into the phone. "Yeah, I know where that is. Just keep an eye on her, and we'll be there in a minute." Buffy hung up and gave Xander the location. "Try to find parking before we get there. We should approach on foot."

She was kind of treating this like they were hunting down a demon, but Xander tried not to let that bother him. He wanted to explain the situation, but they got to the right street very quickly. He slid into a parallel parking space and looked down the sidewalk for any sign of either Anya or Deidre. Not wanting to waste any time, Xander was as brief as possible. "Erica met a vengeance demon, and this was her wish."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What exactly was her wish?"

He threw off his seatbelt and opened the car door. "For Anya to come back." He started down the sidewalk with Buffy following. "I don't know if she's a demon again. I don't know much of anything. All I know is she wished for Anya to come back and break my heart."

Buffy came up on his good side. "You know, I've been in a lot of unpleasant romantic situations, and I've never had one of them come to me." She looked at him with a critical eye. "What is it about you that inspires women to vengeance?"

That was exactly the kind of question Xander liked to avoid asking himself. "Of course they're not going to come to you; you're the Slayer. And you sleep with vampires, so we all have issues." He saw Deidre ahead and sped up his pace to catch up with her.

Knowing that Anya must be within viewing distance of Deidre, Xander scanned the sidewalk ahead. "Where is she?" he asked the young Slayer.

He had startled her. "Mr. Harris, hi." Deidre pointed up ahead. "Turtleneck, over there."

Xander saw her now, a young blonde woman in a red turtleneck. Her back was to him, but according to everything he had been told that night, it was Anya. He was so close to seeing her again, but Buffy held onto his arm to keep him from going to her.

She turned to Deidre. "Good job. Hang back. I don't want her to know that you're with us. We may still need you to follow her when this is over."

"Who is she?" Deidre seemed excited by the possibilities.

Before Xander could say anything, Buffy answered the question. "That's what we're trying to find out."

Buffy allowed Xander to go forward, but she still held tightly to his arm. "Okay," she said in a low tone. "I want you to be prepared. She has amnesia. She didn't know who I was. She didn't even know who she was, so she's most likely not going to know who you are. Just let me take the lead at first and don't spook her."

She finally let go of his arm as they approached the woman in the red turtleneck, who was standing in place staring up at a building. "Hey, Christina, right?"

"Christina" turned around, and Xander's breath caught in his throat. It was really her. He stared at the mole on her chin, Anya's exact mole. Her hair was shoulder length and curly. He thought it might be the way Anya had it when she was killed, but it was difficult to remember now which hairstyle corresponded to which time in her life. They had all faded together over the years.

He knew that this was a curse; it was vengeance. He knew that he should not expect anything, but secretly he hoped she would recognize him. That she would just know from looking at him that he was someone important in her life.

"Oh, it's you." She barely glanced at Xander as she gave Buffy an annoyed look. "Are you following me?"

"No," Buffy said. "I just saw you, and I thought I'd be nice. You look lost."

Anya looked at the building again with some uncertainty and then back at Buffy. "Look, Muffy-"

"Buffy," she corrected.

"Whatever. I'm not lost, and it's creepy that you won't leave me alone. And it's even creepier that you decided to bring this sketchy character with you." She gestured broadly at Xander.

Xander took offense at this. "Sketchy?"

"It's the eye patch," Buffy told him. "I'm used to it, but sometimes you kinda look like a Bond villain."

Xander was somewhat mollified by this comparison, but Anya's description of him bothered him. He had tried not expect any more from her, but it still upset him that Anya had written him off as a "sketchy character." He held out a hand to her, even though it seemed like such a ridiculous formality. "I'm Xander."

Anya just looked at his hand. "Uhn-huh. And let me guess, you think we went to high school together too. Obviously you guys are obsessed with this girl, and I'm sure she's lovely, but I don't know you. _And_," she said, addressing Buffy again and puffing up a little. "I'm stronger than I look, and if it comes to it, I'm pretty sure I could take both of you in a fight. Especially that one, because he's disabled."

Xander almost said something, but he let it slide. Clearly, she thought their motives there were less than altruistic, and disagreeing with her would only add to that. "We don't want to fight you. Or—or hurt you. It's just that-"

Buffy interrupted Xander by taking his arm once more. "You want us to leave you alone. Getting the message loud and clear. We just thought you might need some help, all alone in a strange city. Our mistake."

She walked on down the sidewalk, pulling Xander with her. "You spooked her." she hissed.

"I'm pretty sure all I said was my name." He pulled his arm out of her grip. "Unless you mean the eye patch, because there's nothing I can do about that."

"So what do you think?" Buffy asked. "Is it her?"

"Yes, it's her!" Xander did not even see how that could be in question. He looked back at Anya, who was watching their retreat with narrowed, pensive eyes. "Why are we leaving her?"

Buffy sighed. "Because if seeing you didn't trigger anything, then there's not much we can do right now. We can't force her to remember us. We'll have Deidre keep track of her, and then when Willow gets here, she can force Anya to remember."

Xander shook his head. "I don't like it. The Willow part? Sure, that sounds good. But I don't like the part where we leave her alone in a strange city when she doesn't even know who she is."

"She's not alone; she has a secret Slayer bodyguard if she gets into trouble." Xander rolled his eyes, and Buffy continued, "Fine, what do you suggest we do? Kidnap her? Tie her up in the facility's basement until she loves you again? Because I really don't think-" Buffy was interrupted by a shriek. She turned around quickly to see what was happening.

Xander did not bother to assess the situation; he just took off running in the direction of the shriek. At first, all he saw was the back of a large, bumpy-headed demon, but then the demon stepped aside and made it possible for Xander to see its target. Even before then, Xander had instinctively known that Anya would be the object of the demon's interest. He watched as it hit Anya across the side of her face, knocking her to the sidewalk.

The demon bent over Anya and grabbed her by the neck. "I have a message for you from D'Hoffryn. He liked it better when you were dead."

Xander tackled the demon as hard as he could. He could see Deidre running up from the other direction, and he knew that Buffy was right behind him. So he just had to distract this thing for a few seconds until they got there. Both Xander and the demon went slamming into the wall of a building.

The demon hit its head hard against the bricks, but that did not seem to faze it. "This does not concern you," It started back toward Anya, who was now sitting up and scooting back, looking terrified and confused. "I am only here for Anyanka."

Buffy was there before it could get to Anya. She threw it back into the wall a few feet away from Xander. "Huh," she said. "I guess it is her." She ducked a swing from the demon and turned to Deidre who had just arrived. "Weapons?"

Deidre pulled out a wooden stake. "Just this."

Buffy shrugged. "It's worth a try." She kicked the demon in the chest. "Xander, get her out of here."

Xander did not need to be told twice. He pulled Anya to her feet. There was some blood running down the side of her face from where she hit the pavement, but he forced himself not to wipe it away because she did not know him that well. He just put an arm around her to help her walk and led her away from the demon. "We should leave the fighting to them."

The sudden attack by a big, scary demon seemed to make Anya momentarily forget that she had found Xander sketchy and Buffy creepy only a minute before. She went willingly with Xander for several yards, and then she stopped and jerked away from him. "Hey! What, am I supposed to miss the fact that he showed up right when you did? How do I know he's not with you, that this isn't all an elaborate—"

She turned back to look at the alleged conspiracy just in time to see Buffy ram the stake straight through the demon's neck. The demon fell to the sidewalk, and Buffy kicked it to see if anything might still be alive in there. It did not move.

Anya's face went pale. "Yeah, probably not a friend of yours after all."

Xander tried to think of something he could say. "I know this is a lot to take in. But that thing thought you were the same person... that same person from our high school. And so whether you're Anya or Christina, you might be in danger."

She sat on a bench at a bus stop. "I'm not Christina. I..." She rolled her eyes. "I was walking down the street, and I felt perfectly normal, like I knew exactly who I was and where I came from, and then... Then I ran into _her_."

Xander sat next to her. "Buffy."

"Right, Buffy. And she asked me where I went to school, and I knew that I knew. I knew exactly who I was; I knew exactly where I went to school, but when I tried to remember, it just slipped away, and I didn't know anymore. And she asked my name, and I knew my name, until I tried to remember it. I don't think Christina is right. But that—that thing, he called me something. It wasn't Anya; it was something else."

Xander nodded. "Anyanka." He knew nothing about the bounds of the wish, but he really hoped that name was not going to mean anything more to her than the others. "It's kinda the long version of your—of Anya's name."

She tried out the name. "Anyanka." Then she shrugged. "So you all are pretty sure I'm her?"

Xander looked up at Buffy walking over. Deidre was hanging back, probably on Buffy's orders. "Yeah. We were willing to back off a little, but it's unlikely that thing would make a mistake."

She thought about it for a few seconds. "And that thing, it was a demon, right?"

Buffy gave Xander a reproachful look, and he held up his hands. "I didn't tell her anything about demons. She came up with that on her own." He turned back to Anya. "Yeah, that's exactly what that was."

Anya nodded thoughtfully. "I find that I'm not very surprised that demons exist. It seems right." She got to her feet. "Actually, it's the first thing that's seemed right since I met you," she said to Buffy.

Buffy crossed her arms. "Okay, so now what? What do you want to do?"

Anya looked around at the city buildings. "I want to go back to my life. I want to go back to when everything just made sense, to before you confused everything by asking questions." She looked back at Buffy. "But I guess I believe that it's unlikely that demon would make a mistake. And I don't know anything about what I have to go back to. And I think it might be possible that my life is as this Anyanka, and that the only way to get that back is to listen to you. So I'd like to hear about her now."

Buffy glanced at Xander, questioning whether she should be the one to tell Anya. He gave her a nod to tell her to speak. If Anya wanted to hear about her forgotten life from Buffy, then she should.

"Well," Buffy said. "Anya, Anyanka, was a friend of ours even after high school. She—she died. I mean, we thought she died a few years ago in a huge... vampire attack." She said this last part as though she was bracing herself for Anya's skepticism.

Anya just nodded. "Right, vampires too. I'm okay with that."

"Oh, good." Buffy continued, "So, um, only one person actually saw the body, and then the whole town was swallowed up in an earthquake of sorts. So it was never recovered. And this is just the cliff notes version, but Anya royally pissed off a demon, and before she... died, he was trying to have her killed. And now you're here, and the demon attacks are back, and they probably won't stop. But, um, we kinda fight demons for a living, and we could protect you if you want. I think the safest thing for you to do is to come with us."

Anya narrowed her eyes. "I don't really like you. And I still find your disfigured friend unsavory." She gave a resigned sigh. "But I think you're less likely to kill me than that demon who has it out for me. For her," she amended. "And I don't really have anywhere else to go, so okay. I'll go with you."

–

–

**Author's Note:** I feel like I should put up a disclaimer. In the next chapter, we will probably return to Calreg and the problems she's having. So there won't be any Anya or Xander. (Although there will be a lot of talking about them.) On the other hand, I may decide to switch chapters 7 and 8, and this whole disclaimer will be premature.


	7. Real Me

**Author's Note:** So if you read that disclaimer at the end of Chapter 6, it was premature because I did switch the chapters. Next one though, no Xander and Anya.

–

–

**Chapter 7—Real Me**

Anya was given a choice. She could go to the training facility, or she could go to Buffy's apartment, located just down the block from the facility. She was wary of this. "If you have a dormitory type thing set up, why would you offer to let me stay in your home?"

Buffy shrugged like that was a good question. "Well, in our organization's hierarchy, Anya would have been fairly... high up." She used her hand illustrate the concept of high. "So I'm just extending the same courtesy and hospitality to you that I would to her. You know, because you probably are her."

After leaving Buffy earlier that evening, Anya had checked her pockets for any kind of identification, any money, any indication of where she was going to or coming from. But there was nothing like that. These people were the only lead she had on an identity.

She glanced at the guy in the eye patch, who was off talking to the other girl. She knew his name was Xander, but she preferred to think of him as the guy in the eye patch. There was something about him that put her ill at ease. She was starting to accept that she could be their long lost, presumed dead Anya, but there was something about the idea that these people were her friends that seemed far-fetched. They just did not feel like friends. Especially the guy in the eye patch. He felt like someone she should want nothing to do with. "Is it just your place or does your boyfriend live there too?"

Buffy looked confused. "I don't have a—" Comprehension dawned on her. "Oh, you mean Xander?" She shook her head. "He's not my boyfriend, and no, he doesn't live there."

If he did, it would have made the decision easier for Anya. She definitely did not want to stay in the same place as him. "What would be the benefits of going to your apartment instead of the training place?"

"Well, no communal bathrooms for one thing. You could have a lot more privacy when you wash up." Buffy pointed to the side of Anya's face. "You wouldn't have to worry about all the questions you can't answer."

Anya instinctively brought her hand up and felt something dry and sticky on her cheek. She licked her fingers and rubbed her cheek again. As she suspected, it was blood. The realization that she was bleeding drove home how serious the situation was. She looked at the elbow that was bothering her to see if that was bleeding too and found that her sleeve was ripped. "I guess the apartment then."

She started to join the others, but Buffy stopped her. "Why would you think he was my boyfriend?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Anya did not know why it mattered. "You just seem close."

"Yeah, close like friends. Or like siblings, like he's like a brother to me. I mean, you should know that we never..." Buffy stared intensely into Anya eyes, as though this part was very important. "_Never_ were anything more than that."

Anya was still not sure why it mattered so much. It had just been an honest mistake what with the way Buffy was always holding onto the arm of the guy in the eye patch. However, if she wanted it to be clear to everyone that they had never been involved sexually, Anya supposed she could understand that. "Right, I'm sorry I thought otherwise."

Buffy hesitated, searching Anya's face for signs of doubt. Finally satisfied, she brightened up. "Okay, let's go to the apartment."

The guy in the eye patch was apparently the driver, which did not seem very safe. Buffy offered Anya the front seat, but she declined. She knew it would only be a short drive, but she would rather spend it in the back with Deirdre. That turned out to maybe not be the best choice because during the two minutes it took to get back to the facility, Deirdre kept staring at Anya.

The guy in the eye patch found a new parking space on the right block. While the other three headed for the apartment, Deidre was sent back to the training facility. Even though Anya still felt uncomfortable being alone with Buffy and the guy in the eye patch, she was starting to see a definite upside to this privacy thing. She did not know how many girls were living in that dormitory, but she was not prepared to deal with all the questions. And at least Buffy and the guy in the eye patch pretended not to stare.

The apartment was smaller than Anya expected. For some reason Anya thought being the head... She knew that there was a better term for it than "demon fighter," and she knew that she used to know that term, but it was not coming to her. Whatever it was, Anya thought being the head one would pay better.

Buffy showed her into the bathroom. "Don't worry about getting blood on the towels; they're used to it." She handed Anya a first aid kit. "And when you're ready, we can try to explain more about who y—Anya was."

Buffy left, closing the door behind her. Figuring it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to being alone with complete strangers, Anya went over to turn the lock, and she overheard the guy in the eye patch say, "She hates me."

Anya felt that she had a right to eavesdrop at least a little since they were talking about her, especially since it felt like they were hiding something from her. It would probably be much more useful to know what they said behind her back rather than to her face.

"She doesn't hate you. She just doesn't know who you are," Buffy said.

"Sketchy and unsavory? She hates me."

"Well, it's vengeance, Xand. It's not supposed to be pleasant. It kind of seems like you're getting off easy so far."

"True," he said begrudgingly "It just does not seem fair for her to hate me when she doesn't even remember the reasons she should hate me."

That was something he probably would not have said to her face. Anya had known there was a reason she did not like the man, and now she knew that was justified. Of course, that did not really make her feel better since it meant that she was stuck in an apartment with a man who had done something bad to her in the past. Or done something to Anya anyway. She went back to the mirror to clean up and to decide whether she had accurately chosen the lesser of two evils.

In the mirror, Anya finally looked at herself. Her reflection was familiar to her, so at least there was that. The second she saw the blood caked on the side of her face, she decided this was still probably better than being at the mercy of demons who wanted to do this and worse to her She wondered what she could have done to "royally piss off" one. Whatever it was, she hoped it was worth this.

She saw a clip on the counter and used it to tie back her hair. Then she wet a washcloth and wiped the blood off her face. She examined the wound that was left. The area around her temple was all scratched up, and there was a small cut that extended into her hairline. Rubbing it with a washcloth had caused blood to well up again. She went into the first aid kit to find antiseptic and band-aids.

Once her face was fixed up to the best of her ability, Anya examined her elbow in the mirror. She could see enough through the rip in her shirt to tell that it was pretty badly skinned. She tried to peel off her shirt, but the turtleneck got caught on the clip in her hair, leaving her blinded and bound up. It took her several seconds of bumping into the door to finally yank the stupid shirt off, and it painfully took the clip with it. She threw her shirt down on the floor and looked at her reflection again. She was not prepared for what she saw.

Buffy's voice came from the other side of the door. "Is everything all right in there?"

"No." Anya touched the thick, raised scar that started at her right shoulder and extended diagonally across her entire body and into the area still covered by her pants. She unbuttoned them to see where it ended, which turned out to be a couple inches below the waistline. "Definitely not all right."

The door knob rattled, but it was still locked. Anya buttoned up her pants again and opened the door. "I seem to have some pretty spectacular battle scars."

Buffy's eyes went wide. They followed the line from shoulder to the waistband of Anya's pants. Anya saw the guy in the eye patch get up from the couch, and then Buffy grabbed her shoulder and forced her to turn around. "Oh my god," Buffy said, sounding stunned.

Anya had not even thought to check the back. She curved her hand around the shoulder and felt that the scar kept going on the other side. She turned to face Buffy again. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Buffy and the guy in... Xander. Anya could tell that the scar meant something to them, and she decided that since it was becoming more likely that she was their Anya, it was time to acknowledge that the guy in the eye patch had a name. Buffy and Xander exchanged a look. Xander was the one who answered. "It means we're going to stop with the pretense that you might not be Anya. That-" He nodded at her chest. "-is how you died. You were cut in half in battle." He made a forceful slicing motion with his hand.

Anya did not like the way he phrased that. It should have been more like, _That's why we _thought_ you died. Because who could survive being... cut in half?_ Which actually would be a very good question. She felt the scar again. It was quite the medical miracle. She twisted her arm around the back, going under instead of over this time. Considering that she was cut all the way through, it was really quite... impossible. She shook her head, slowly at first and then more insistently. "I'm not—I'm not dead."

Xander and Buffy both looked at her so sadly. "No," Anya said. "I can't be..." She felt her neck and was relieved to feel blood pumping. "No, see, I have a pulse. I have a pulse, so I'm not dead."

"Well, no," Xander said. "Not anymore."

Buffy put a reassuring hand on her arm. "You know, I've been dead before. It's not really that big a deal."

"Oh!" Anya was staring to figure this out. "Oh, you people are crazy."

Xander took a step toward her. "Anya, how else do you explain-"

She stepped back to get away from him and ran into the sink. She knew they were right; there was no other explanation. The demon had even said it, that Hoffernan or whoever liked it better when she was dead. She knew they were right, but she did not want to talk about that anymore. "No. How about you tell me what you did to make me hate you?"

He gave an I-told-you-so look to Buffy. "I didn't do anything."

"I heard you. Thin walls, Xander. You said I had a reason to hate you, maybe more than one. I can't really remember." Theories were swimming into Anya's head. "We weren't really friends, were we? No, you found me with no memory, and you thought you could pave over whatever happened before and just pretend that we were friends. Why? What do you want from me?"

Neither one of them said anything for a few seconds. When Anya said she could take both of them back on the street, she had been bluffing. Now that she had seen Buffy fight, seen Buffy put a stick through someone's neck, she was sure that she was no match for the smaller woman. Apprehension grew in her chest, and Anya looked around the bathroom for something she could use as a weapon if she had to.

Finally, Xander said, "I left you at the altar."

Anya was thrown by that. "What?"

He took a deep breath. "That's why you should hate me. I got cold feet, and I walked out on our wedding day. Twice."

Anya laughed incredulously. There was no way she would have married this man; she could not even stand the sight of him. And it was especially ridiculous to think that if they had been going to get married that he would be the one to walk out on her. This was clearly a cover story so that she would not get any closer to the truth, whatever that was.

It did occur to her in that moment that she was standing there in front of Xander wearing only her bra and she did not feel at all weird about that. There was a certain sense that there was no reason to be embarrassed, but that might only mean that she was comfortable with her body. Except with this scar running across it, she was actually feeling very uncomfortable with her body. And even still, feeling that, she was not embarrassed to be half naked in front of Xander. With no memory of anything, with every development feeling like it was happening for the first time, this did not feel like a new experience. "So you're telling me that Anya died _and_ she was dumped in the most humiliating way possible by a one-eyed freak? Is there any reason I should want her life?"

"Actually, I had both eyes when-"

"Not the point, Xander," Buffy interrupted, keeping her eyes on Anya. "Look, I get that this is a lot to process, but you should want Anya's life because it's the only one you get. You already admitted to Xander that there's no Christina. If you're not Anya, then you're not anyone."

Anya found that difficult to argue with. "Fine, but I'm still right about us not being friends. Not after he dumped me." Something else occurred to her. "Or are we? Is that why it was so important to you that I believe you two aren't having intercourse?"

Xander gave Buffy a questioning look, but she avoided his eye. "Sort of. It's partly because it's really icky."

"Thanks," Xander interjected sarcastically.

Buffy continued, "But mostly because he's your ex, and you've been gone for five years, and I didn't want you to get the impression that anything had... changed between us since you... left. Because it really hasn't. We have _never_..." She seemed to have trouble finding the words. "...been intimate."

"Nope." Xander sounded a little like he was lamenting this fact. "Not even once."

"Okay," Anya said. "So I died, five years ago, and I... was going to marry this guy." She still found that hard to believe. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Buffy and Xander exchanged another look, which annoyed Anya. "Stop doing that! Just tell me."

Buffy sighed. "It's not that we're trying to keep anything from you. We just don't want to overload you with too much information when you're still so fragile."

Anya did not feel fragile. She felt like she was handling things fairly well, considering. Whatever it was they had to tell her, it could not be worse than finding out that she died. But what if it was? At this point, she had no choice but to put herself at the mercy of these people. Like it or not, they knew more than she did, and that might mean that they knew better. They saved her life that night and took her in. Maybe she should give them the benefit of the doubt. "Will you at least tell me why there is a demon trying to kill me?"

Buffy hesitated and then took Anya by the arm. "Why don't you come sit on the couch and we can talk?" She led Anya into the living room. "Would you like a shirt or something?"

Once again, Anya become aware that she was wearing only a bra in front of people she considered strangers, but Buffy seemed to find it more awkward than she did. "Yeah, I suppose."

Anya sat on the couch and looked at her elbow while Buffy went into the other room. Xander stood a few feet away from her, staring at her chest. She knew that he was only interested in her scar and not her breasts. From the way he was looking at her, she could tell that his thoughts were not those of lust but of concern. For the first time though, her feelings about him seemed much more complicated than mere dislike. She told herself it was just because she now knew that they had been involved and that was coloring the way she thought of him.

She needed to say something so that she would stop thinking about him and about her chest and about the history they apparently shared. "I still need to clean this out," she said, holding up her elbow. She figured there was nothing less sexy than a skinned elbow.

He nodded and went to get her something to help with that. While he was in the bathroom, Buffy came out of the bedroom and handed Anya a plain, white t-shirt. As she put that on, Xander brought over the antiseptic and some cotton pads. He set them on the coffee table and sat next to her on the couch. "So, what you did to piss off the demon..."

Anya was not comfortable sitting so close to him, and she knew that it was for reasons that were still more complicated than dislike. She put up a hand to stop him and scooted away on the couch. "Actually, I think I'd rather hear it from Buffy."

Xander looked hurt for a second and then gave a nod and a tight-lipped smile. "Okay." He stood up and addressed Buffy. "She's all yours."

Buffy patted him on the arm and just said one word. "Vengeance." Anya remembered her saying something about vengeance earlier, and she wanted to ask what that was all about, but she felt that the conversational track they were on was much more important. She reached over for the antiseptic and waited for Buffy to tell her what she wanted to know.

Buffy took Xander's spot on the couch. "Well, you used to have this... job where-"

Anya poured the antiseptic onto a pad. "Wait, did I used to be the head... demon fighter? Before I died?" She put the pad to her elbow and hissed at the pain.

This was not one of those things that just _felt_ right to her, but logically, it fit. Buffy had said that she was high up in the organization, and it would explain what they wanted from her. If she had been the leader before Buffy, then of course Buffy would want to take her in and isolate her from the others. On the other hand, there was the small wrinkle that she had proved herself useless in a fight against an actual demon.

Buffy dashed her hopes. "No. That's—that's always been me. No, you were actually... a demon, and-"

Anya wished that she had not just decided to trust them, because she did not want that to be true. She liked her version better. She interrupted again. "I don't think I want to know anymore."

Buffy shook her head. "No, it's okay. Because you're not a demon anymore. That's why this other demon is so upset with you. You got out of the demon business and became human, and you started helping us demon fighters. And so he wants to kill you, because, you know, you're kind of a traitor and a disappointment. To—to the bad guys. To the good guys, you're... We think you're great. Not at all... disappointing." She looked to Xander for help, but he just nodded.

Anya found this version of events a little incredible. This idea that a demon could become human did not sound right to her; they were completely different species. She did not say that to Buffy and Xander though. She was exhausted, and she did not want to dig any further. The events and revelations of that night were finally starting to hit her. Maybe it was the fatigue talking, but it occurred to her that if they were lying, they probably had a good reason. She felt like maybe she had learned enough for one night. "Okay, I guess that makes sense," she lied.

Buffy smiled. "Good. See, there's no reason to freak out."

Anya nodded and leaned against the back of the couch with a yawn. "Yeah, no reason to freak out." She closed her eyes. "I've just been dead for five years, but other than that, everything is just ducky."

After that, she heard Buffy say something, and then Xander said something, but she had drifted too far off to register their words. She murmured an assent, having no idea with what she was agreeing. She felt one of them, she did not care which one, pull off her shoes and lift her legs onto the couch. She slumped over, and that was the last thing she remembered until she woke up.

–

–


	8. Choices

**Author's Note:** So remember in _Selfless _(the episode), when Anya says, "This is my wish, undo what I did."? That could possibly mean that D'Hoffryn cannot undo a wish unless he is himself granting a wish. It's a valid interpretation. (And a convenient one.) But of course, there is a loophole.

–

–

**Chapter 8—Choices **

Generally speaking, D'Hoffryn was a pretty nice guy. You did not want to make him angry, and as long as you remembered that one basic tenet, he wasn't so bad to work for. Calreg, for one, had never seen him angry, and she had never intended to get on his bad side.

On the one hand, it seemed like she could just calmly explain to him that this was all a mistake. She had not known who she was dealing with when she granted the wish. D'Hoffryn had always been understanding before. The problem was that she knew how he would respond, equally calm, just as understanding as she knew him to be. It was a mistake that could be fixed. Usually, a vengeance demon would get in trouble if she revoked a wish. This would be the exception.

After her friend pieced together exactly who had been brought back to life, she insisted that D'Hoffryn had to be notified. Calreg balked at the idea. Didn't D'Hoffryn have this whole thing where he wants her dead? Wouldn't it be better to pretend they know nothing about this and see if he ever even notices that she's back?

Her friend could not wrap her head around what Calreg meant by that. So Calreg tried to explain further, something about friends not getting other friends killed, and if she was invited to the wedding, weren't they friends?

Calreg still was not getting through. They had to tell D'Hoffryn. It would not be right to keep something from him. When Calreg still resisted this idea, her friend disappeared to tattle on her, which was not cool.

Since then, Calreg had been avoiding D'Hoffryn. She felt the call to return to his hell dimension, but she ignored it. It kept getting stronger. He was getting angrier. She was not making anything better for herself by staying away from Arashmahaar. Finally, after leaving Xander Harris's apartment, it became more than a call; it was a thread pulling her there against her will. She closed her eyes for just one second, and she was standing in front of him.

"Calreg," he said amicably. "Have you been avoiding me?"

It actually scared her more that he did not sound upset. "No, sir."

He folded his hands. "Good, because there is no reason for you to avoid me. You're not in any trouble. You have not yet done anything that cannot be undone."

She knew it. She had known it would come down to this. She was not even sure why she was so reluctant. She had never even met Anyanka, and she had barely met Xander Harris. All they ever really were to her was like a celebrity couple, like the Brad and Jen of the underworld. The way she felt about them was the same thing she felt as a human, standing in the checkout line staring at tabloid headlines about divorce, well aware that she cared too much about the lives of these people she did not even know. They were not even really like real people to her.

Except now they were real people. Now she had met Xander Harris. Now she was responsible for Anyanka walking around the streets of San Diego. They were more than just famous figures of the underworld, and she was now directly involved in their lives. And what she knew of Xander, she kind of liked him even more than before. How was she supposed to explain that to D'Hoffryn, a demon who had never experienced any of those human weaknesses that were holding her back? They had always been real people to him, real people that he currently hated. So she simply said, "Right."

D'Hoffryn waited a beat, but nothing happened. "Undo the wish, Calreg."

She scrambled for something she could say. "Doesn't the power of the wish really belong to the wisher? Isn't it her place to determine the vengeance? I mean, who are we-"

He held up his hand to stop her. "The power belongs to _me._ Never be confused about that."

Calreg knew better than to say it, but that was only half true. All of them, even D'Hoffryn, were powerless without a wish. He could not even reverse the wish she had granted without her permission. In working their magic, they were always restricted to the bounds of the wish. In some ways, she had more power when she was a mortal witch. Her spells may have been less effective, but she had the freedom to choose them. "But the vengeance is for the wronged party."

He stared down at her with those red-rimmed eyes. "Are you refusing me?"

She could not say it out loud, could not stand to have her insubordination so naked and plain. "I just want you to understand-"

"No, I want you to understand," he snapped. "You were _nothing_ when I came to you. Just an insignificant little girl playing at revenge, harnessing forces you didn't even understand. You've been here for three years. Do you really believe that you can tell _me_ anything about vengeance or the power of the wish. I created you; I gave you everything you have. And I can take it all away anytime I please."

Calreg knew that was true. She did not know why she was being such an idiot about this. There was no way she was willing to die to keep Anyanka alive. Of course, killing her would not reverse the wish. Maybe that knowledge was facilitating her foolish, stubborn arrogance. On the other hand, she was sure there was a loophole somewhere and that D'Hoffryn knew exactly where to find it.

He sighed. "You show such promise. I don't want to be forced to cut short the legacy of someone so enterprising and resourceful. Your work with rapists in particular is stunning. And what you did to that hit and run driver last week was truly awe-inspiring."

"But see, all I did was grant a wish." He was making her point for her.

D'Hoffryn considered this. "Fine. Maybe all of this discourse is for nothing. Go to your girl, see if she wants to undo the wish. I can't imagine she's getting much vengeance out of this anyway. All you did was give him back the woman he loves."

"No, I didn't." _Sure_, she thought. _Keep arguing when you're already getting your way_. She just wanted him to understand that she was doing her job when she granted the wish. "I gave him someone who could hurt him. That's what was in her heart. She knew that she could never hurt him the way he was hurting her, so she wanted him to have his heart broken by someone who could. And this Anya was the only one. And that was all I knew at the time." She realized that might not have been clear. "I didn't know she was Anyanka."

"It doesn't matter. Just do whatever it is you have to do so that you can erase the wish. And Calreg," he said in an eerily pleasant tone. "You're young; I'm indulging you. But there is a point where my patience will wear thin. And it will be much better for you if Anyanka is dead when that happens, I don't care how."

With a flick of his hand, he teleported her back to the human dimension and out of his sight. She knew that she was walking a very precarious line here. And she had a choice to make. Her story was far more important to her than Xander and Anyanka's. But now she had to be consistent, what with all her talk about the balance of power. It might even make it easier, giving the choice to someone else.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. Erica was not in the same place she had been before. Calreg went to the new location, making sure her human face was showing. The fact that she was a veiny-faced demon was out of the bag, but she thought it would still put Erica more at ease if Calreg looked like a normal person.

She did not bother to knock. It would not have done any good. She just appeared in Erica's apartment. There was no Xander Harris in sight, which was probably for the best.

Erica grew alarmed the second she saw Calreg. "No, no, no. I have something." She ran for her bedroom and came back carrying a necklace with a cross on it. She held out the cross to Calreg. "Get back, demon." When nothing happened, she added, "Does that work? Do I have to invoke the power of Christ or something?"

Calreg took the necklace out of Erica's hand. "That pretty much only works on vampires." While she thought about what she was going to do, she laced the chain through the fingers of one hand and held the cross in the other to demonstrate the ineffectiveness.

Erica's disappointment at her failed attempt to repel the demon gave way to other concerns. "Vampires are real too?"

"Wow, he really hasn't told you anything, has he?" This could work, playing up the friendship angle. She could get the wish revoked the same way she got it made. "Yeah, they're really real. So actually, you should probably hold onto this." She handed back the necklace.

Erica clasped the cross around her neck, seeming unsure of herself. "So then what kind of stuff works on demons?"

"Different things. Depends on what kind of demons you're dealing with. Beheading usually works though." Calreg crossed the room to the couch. She realized talking about her weaknesses was probably not the best way to bond with Erica, although she was not really worried about this woman beheading her. "So don't you think it's a little weird that I know more about your ex-boyfriend than you do? Wouldn't you like to ask about all those things he's been keeping from you?"

Erica regarded her warily. "Why would you want to tell me anything?"

Calreg sat on the couch, making herself comfortable. First, trust had to be rebuilt. "You summoned me to that bar. You might not have meant to, and you obviously did not know you were doing it. But you were in pain, and your very soul was calling out for vengeance. It's my job to help people like you. And I don't think this wish is working out the way you intended."

Erica held up a finger as though to say that she wanted to get one thing straight. "I didn't intend for anything to happen! I was just venting."

They always were. Calreg shrugged. "Either way, you can't be happy with how this is working out. He's seen her now. He's _with_ her now; I can feel it."

"No, you're not..." Erica shook her head. "I was there when you were talking to Xander. You said that it wasn't your job to help people like me, that's just something you tell us, but it's not true. You're—You're trying to trick me."

Calreg did kind of remember saying that to Xander. Well, trust was built with honesty, so she decided to try a little of that. "The whole helping people thing is complicated, but okay. I'm not trying to trick you. I'm trying to open up a dialogue because I need... to have a dialogue with you. Your wish, it got me in trouble with the big boss, which means I have a problem. Which means you have a problem. So I can be nice or I can be scary, but we are going to talk about this. So let's try nice first."

Erica hesitated and then cautiously sat on the couch with Calreg. "And part of this dialogue is for you to tell me all the things Xander wouldn't?"

Calreg was still conflicted at the idea of reversing the wish, but she knew what she had to do to get Erica's cooperation. She had to frame the tale of Anyanka in a way that played up the parts Xander had probably tried to play down. So she welcomed Erica's questions. "Part of this dialogue is for you to understand everything that is happening now and everything that happened before."

Erica thought about that. "I want to know what happened at the frat house. You and Xander both referenced it, but... He said, um, he said that he—he wouldn't have let her die that day."

That was a great place to start the spin. "Did he by any chance tell you who was trying to kill her that day?" Erica shook her head. "It was the Slayer. Buffy Summers. Have you met her?"

"Yeah." Erica seemed a little shell shocked. "Buffy was trying to kill Anya? That's... But I thought... Weren't they on the same side?"

Calreg laughed, even though it actually was not that ridiculous. From what she knew, most of the time they were on the same side, just not that day. "Anyanka was a _demon._ Buffy's the Slayer." She thought about that. "Yeah, back then she was the only one because Anyanka died the same day that... Buffy Summers is the Vampire Slayer, but she does demons too. She and Anyanka were natural enemies. But that's not why the Slayer was trying to kill her. On that particular day, Anyanka had slaughtered about a dozen frat boys, ripped out their still beating hearts. Which, I mean, she was just doing her job, but that's why the—Buffy was trying to kill her. And on that day, Xander prevented Buffy from stopping a mass murderer." It was strange to talk about these people using their first names, especially with someone who knew them.

"When was that?" Erica asked.

"Oh." Calreg realized she probably should have made the timeline a little clearer. "After."

"After what?"

Okay, that one word answer was still kind of vague, but if Erica knew anything about that, it should have been obvious. After that whole stretch where she was human. After she got her powers back. Calreg did not say that, though. Why volunteer information? "After he left her at the altar."

Erica looked very confused by all this. "How is that like a fairy tale?"

Calreg almost asked how it wasn't. He was protecting Anyanka, going against his own best friend, not caring about anything except that he still loved her. "Well, I'm a demon. I like mass murderers." She realized that was not really true. She actually made a living punishing murderers. She got this job because of her vengeance against the man who murdered her brother. She was not a fan of human murderers, but there was a whole different standard for demons.

Calreg put those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand, making the Xander and Anyanka relationship seem less than ideal. "And you might not be thinking of fairy tales in the right context. It's not the kind they show in Disney movies. It's more like the kind of fairy tale where the woman gives up all her power for a man and then he destroys her." A perfect example came to her. "Like in the original Little Mermaid, the one where she turns into sea foam."

Erica shook her head. "You can't really believe that."

She did not know what she believed. She was not there when any of that happened. She had not seen how Anyanka changed. Maybe it was better to trust the accounts of others. And there was one word they all used. "I do believe that. He domesticated her. She was never the same Anyanka after she met him."

Calreg had more to say on that front, but Erica interrupted. "That's what he said. She wasn't An...yanka?" She got confirmation and went on. "He said she wasn't that when she was with him, that she was just Anya."

The way she said that told Calreg that Erica did not know what he meant by that. She thought this was the explanation. She was just Anya because she was domesticated, not because she was human. Calreg could work with that. "Of course he said that. Because that's what he did to her. That's what he reduced this once great demon to. And then he just left her, just destroyed her, and she tried to go back. That's what the frat house was all about. But he wouldn't let her do that either. Really, their whole relationship was a big mess. So," Calreg knew this was the right time to transition to the real point. "I'm going to give you a chance to reconsider your wish. Because I can undo it just as easily as I did it. Easier, in fact. I wouldn't even faint."

Erica scratched the back of her neck. "What exactly happens if I tell you to undo it?"

Calreg could feel the reticence, even after everything she said about Anyanka. She made the call to be vague. "Everything goes back to the way it was before you made the wish. It'll be like you never even met me."

"You mean Anya would be dead." Sober, Erica was a lot more astute than Calreg remembered. "If I let you undo it, someone who is alive right now will be dead."

Erica seemed to be missing the salient point. "She was a demon." Calreg was pretty sure that she had come back human, as Anya, not Anyanka, but Erica did not know the difference. "And she's supposed to be dead anyway. You would just be restoring the balance that we upset."

Erica nodded slowly. "Would he remember?"

Calreg considered lying, but she decided against it. "Yes. I wouldn't actually be reversing time. I don't even know if I could if I wanted to." There was only one place to go with that, although Calreg was not very confident that it would work. "But that's better. It'll kill two birds with one stone. You wanted vengeance. What would accomplish that more than taking her away from him all over again?"

"No, I didn't want..." Erica shook her head vehemently. "I—I'm not going to tell you to kill her."

Where had Calreg gone wrong with this? "You're not going to tell me to kill the mass murdering demon?"

"No, you're trying to trick me." Erica got up from the couch. "That's not—I know things about her. She's not like that. She was—She was a luminescent beauty whose... grace and... something... touched everyone she met."

Calreg felt her own resolve weakening. "He said that about her? That is so... romantic," she finished, despite her best efforts stay unaffected.

"No, it wasn't even him. It wasn't even coming from someone in love with her. Or, I don't know, maybe he was too. But I know that she fought on the side of good. And I know that Xander wouldn't love..." She trailed off, lost in her own thoughts. She completed the sentence very slowly "...wouldn't love someone who terrorized mankind for centuries."

That was an interesting choice of words. "Centuries?" Calreg repeated with a slight smile. "I'm pretty sure I never mentioned centuries."

Erica shook that off. "If she was such a... demon, killing frat boys and all that, why are you in trouble with your boss? Shouldn't he be throwing you a parade?"

Calreg shrugged. "She fell out of favor, what with fighting on the other side. So the boss wants her dead. He's the head _vengeance_ demon; he knows how to hold a grudge. I've been told to undo the wish, and I'm here to give you a say in that since it was your vengeance."

"Oh." Erica nodded knowingly. She was definitely more astute. "You want me to make it easier for you. Because you and I wrote a new chapter to that fairy tale, which is more like Disney than you want to say, and you don't want to be responsible for ending it. So you make up stories about mass murder and Xander destroying her, all so that you can spread around the blame."

This was the moment for Calreg to keep her cool. This was where she would either sell it or fail. She was not sure which one she was hoping for. She got to her feet because she knew that she would tower over the shorter woman. In a calm tone, she said, "When Xander Harris told you that he didn't want to marry you, you cried in a bar and sought vengeance against him. Imagine if he told you that on your wedding day. There's no questioning that he destroyed her. As for the frat house, someday, maybe if you're really lucky and he's feeling chatty, he might tell you what happened. And then you'll know the kind of person—I'm sorry, the kind of demon you resurrected. And you'll _wish_ that you had someone else to put the blame on. But by then, it'll be too late, because this is a one time offer. You say the word, it goes back to the way it was. You don't, Anyanka lives. There's no sharing the blame here. It is entirely your decision, and you alone will be responsible for the consequences of that decision."

In that moment, Calreg was ready to hand over the choice. Erica had been absolutely right about Calreg wanting her to make it easier. It was like she told Xander, Anya was going to die one way or the other. He could not save her from that. What she had just said was only a lie in the sense that it was not entirely Erica's decision. Even Calreg did not have complete control over whether Anyanka would live. She looked down on Erica, and waited for an answer.

Erica shook her head, looking so lost. "I know what you're saying. I'm not sure how much I believe you, but I do hear you. But I'm not like you people. I don't—I don't know how to be okay with letting someone die. Not if I could... Is anything going to happen to him? Is he in danger?"

Calreg considered lying, but she had already gotten the answer. There was no point in pushing harder for something she was not sure she even wanted. "Yes, he is. Because he's always in danger. Did you miss the part where he lost an eye? He's been right there on the front lines during numerous apocalypses. He spends every day training Slayers. Having her dead or alive is not going to have much of an effect on the danger he faces. It just changes the source."

Erica considered this for a moment. "Then I'm not going to tell you to kill her. Xander would never forgive me for that."

Calreg rolled her eyes. "You really don't understand the concept of vengeance." This was another problem she had with romance jobs. Not only were the problems trivial, but they were usually short lived. Now Erica was feeling all sorry for the man that broke her heart. You know who that never happened with? Rape victims. "Fine, Anyanka gets a reprieve. We'll see how long it lasts."

Since the conversation was over, she popped out of the apartment. She supposed her next stop would be to see the infamous Anyanka.

–

–


	9. Villains

–

**Chapter 9—Villains**

Buffy covered Anya's sleeping form with a blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch, and then she pulled Xander into the bedroom so that they could talk without disturbing her. As soon as the door was closed, Buffy said, "What are we going to do about her?"

Xander obviously did not understand the question. "What do you mean? It's Anya; we're going to help her."

Buffy tried to imagine what Xander must be feeling, but it was difficult. For five years, he almost never talked about Anya. It was not until earlier that very night that Buffy really got a sense that he was still actively hurting over her death. Everything was always so complicated with those two. Like how in that last year, he said that he loved her, but then he made no effort to be with her. It took Buffy a few seconds to find the similarity in that to her own situation. For the first time ever, she considered that Xander's feelings for Anya might be every bit as deep as her own feelings for Angel. She remembered when Angel came back, in much worse shape. There had been no question; she was willing to give him whatever help she could.

That was not what she meant anyway. She shook her head, but Xander would not let her clarify. "She's really not that bad off anyway. Once Willow gets here, she'll find a way to fix it."

"Fix it how, Xander? I mean, I don't know a lot about vengeance, at least not organized, professional vengeance like this, but the wish was for her to break you heart, right?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. So? I can handle that."

He was not facing the reality of the situation, and Buffy knew that she had to ask the hard questions. "What happens if we fix her? What happens when Willow starts messing with the spell that brought her back? What happens if she stops hurting you and thus outlives her usefulness for vengeance? What happens when the vengeance isn't working because you know about it?" She sat down on the bed and ran her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry I said you were getting off easy. There is nothing easy about this. She was cut in half; there are demons trying to kill her. I don't know if we can save her. Maybe that was the whole point in the first place."

She was afraid that he would argue with her, that he would refuse to listen to reason. Instead, he nodded. "It makes sense, right?" He sat next to her. "I don't know what we're going to do. Maybe Willow will have some answers. She'll know more about all that magic stuff."

Buffy was relieved that he was being more realistic about this. Now that he had acknowledged the possibility of Anya's redeath, she did not want to push any more. With nothing left to say on that front, they fell into a heavy silence.

–

Calreg took a deep breath before teleporting herself to see Anyanka. There was really only one way it would help to meet the woman she had secretly admired for so long. For this to do her any good at all, she was going to have to be disillusioned. Instead of trying to convince Erica that it was a terrible, worthless relationship, she was going to have to try to convince herself. In that sense, it was a no-win situation, but she had already known that.

It was a new apartment, which surprised Calreg. She could have sworn that Anyanka was with Xander Harris. But there was a woman sleeping on the couch, and Calreg could only assume that was the once legendary demon. She looked down, knowing it was either her or this woman. One blink of her eyes, and this woman would disappear, or just die, or something like that. With a slight amount of hesitation, she shook the woman's shoulder to wake her. _Please be disappointing,_ she thought.

The woman's eyes fluttered open. She quickly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She looked terrible. She had a bandage on the side of her face with hair sticking up around it. Her elbow was almost entirely covered with a disgusting scab. Calreg had always imagined Anyanka as being glamorous in some way, but that was not the sight that met her now.

"Who are you?" Anyanka asked suspiciously.

Calreg had not really thought about how she was going to introduce herself. "I'm the one who brought you back."

"Back?" She looked uncertain of herself. "You mean from the dead? You're the one...? Huh, I never really stopped to ask why I was back."

Calreg nodded slowly, thinking about that. She guessed she had kind of assumed Xander would tell Anyanka what happened. Now that she thought about it, considering what the wish was, it was a little strange that Anyanka had even been with him. "You're back because of vengeance." She felt her chest to make sure her pendant was showing. She knew that her face was still all human, but the pendant should have been enough for Anyanka to recognize her as a member of her former order. She made it extra clear just in case though. "I'm a vengeance demon."

Anyanka jerked her head. "Demon?" She looked around, panicked. "Where's Buffy?"

It was Calreg's turn to feel a little panic. "Buffy? The Slayer?"

Anyanka called out the Slayer's name, and the door to Calreg's left opened. As soon as the tiny blonde emerged from the room, Calreg muttered, "Awesome," under her breath. "Of course I teleport straight into the Slayer's apartment. Par for the course, really."

She saw Xander come out of the same room, his being the first familiar face. "I am having the worst day ever" she said, addressing him. "All because you just had to be really mean when you broke up with your girlfriend." She prepared to pop herself out of this highly hazardous situation.

When she had started speaking to him, Xander narrowed his eye as though he was not quite sure who she was. She looked different now, more normal. However, her identity quickly became clear to him, considering what she was saying. "Wait. Don't go yet. Buffy's not going to kill you."

"I'm not?" Buffy asked. "Why am I not?"

He kept his eye trained on Calreg as he answered Buffy's question. "Because you're the one who said that we needed to know more about the spell. It seems to me that we have the perfect chance to do that with Calreg here."

Calreg should have just left. It was not as though they could stop her. And in their brief conversation, Anyanka had turned out to be somewhat disappointing. The problem was Xander Harris. So far, he had not really disappointed her at all. She stared back at him for a while, but right from moment he told her to wait, she knew that she was going to allow herself to get sucked into another conversation with him. "Fine," she said. "What do you want to know?"

Xander raised his eyebrows, as though he was surprised that it was that easy. "Well, we could start with why she has amnesia."

Calreg gave Anyanka another look. "Amnesia?" She realized that she might not know much more about the actual spell than they did. "You know, some spells are easy, straightforward. You turn a guy into a toad, and that's it, nothing to it. Others are more situation based, and then you just have to get a feel for it. You don't really know what you're creating; you're just fulfilling the wish." All three of the other people were listening to her intensely. Anyanka was the only one who looked at all confused. "I actually don't feel comfortable talking about this in front of her." She glanced at Buffy. "Either of them. Can we talk in private?"

"No," Buffy said with a small laugh.

"No, it's okay." Xander patted her on the arm. "I can handle this. Do you want to go in the hallway?" he asked Calreg.

Calreg had her doubts that would be more private, but at least she would no longer have the Slayer staring her down. She followed Xander, and once outside, she continued her explanation. "What I was trying to say is that I don't know anything about amnesia. It all got twisted because I didn't know she was dead. I mean I knew Anyanka was dead, but I didn't know that's who she was talking about. So, all I really did was make her cross paths with you again, and that ended up being a more complicated endeavor than I was prepared for."

"Is that all there was to it? Erica said something about breaking my heart." He sounded hopeful.

"Oh, well, yeah, there's that too. I just mean that as far as..." Something occurred to her. "Does it hurt, her not remembering you?" Xander gave a noncommittal shrug, which was as good as a yes. "Well, there you go. Like I said, these things sometimes take on a life of their own, and even we can't always predict the consequences of the spells we cast. But as long as it's sowing discord, it doesn't really matter to us." With the Slayer gone, she felt comfortable emphasizing the whole evil thing. She did not want to give Xander the impression that she was on his side, even if she might be leaning that way.

"So if you don't know what's going to happen, or what's even going on with her, what did you mean when you said that I wouldn't be able to save her?"

Calreg had meant something very specific when she said that. "As soon as I found out it was Anyanka, I knew what D'Hoffryn would do. He's going to send people to kill her. Judging by the state of her face, I'd guess that someone already tried. And, um..." She did not know why she was going to tell him this. He still had a Slayer on the other side of that door. "I've been ordered to reverse the wish."

She did not get the reaction she was expecting. "So why haven't you?"

Calreg did not know how to answer that. "Do you still want me too?" The last person who should get a say in the matter was the person being targeted by the vengeance, but it would make it a whole lot easier if he said yes. Of course, it would also be far more disillusioning than she could handle at the moment. "Do you understand what that would mean?"

He stared back at her dispassionately. "Yes, I understand what that would mean, and no, I don't want that," he said evenly. "I'm just asking you what _you're_ waiting for."

That was another difficult question for Calreg. "You know a few years ago, I was just a mortal witch. That's how we all start, and then something happens, and we use our powers for evil, and now that's all we can use them for." She realized she had gone too far with that, and she needed to clarify. "And mostly I'm okay with that. Really, you become a demon, and you start to like evil. But when this job was pitched to me, I was given a very distinct impression of what I would be doing, and it did not involve helping twits whose boyfriends cheat on them."

Xander stopped her there. "I didn't cheat on-"

She had not meant him. She was just taking the opportunity to do her own venting after spending three years listening to other people. "Or didn't love them enough, or whatever. As far as I'm concerned, once you know about it, you're already better off. You can stop wasting your time with that one and find someone who will love you and want to marry you. That's just how... It's not vengeance. But apparently, I don't get to have an opinion on the meaning of vengeance."

"I'm still confused about.." Calreg knew what Xander was going to say, but he seemed to change his mind about going down that path. He gave her a winning smile. "So then what kind of work do you like to do?"

"Crime," she said warily. She did not trust him. "The victims."

"Oh." His face became sympathetic. "Personal experience?"

She knew what he was doing because she had done it countless times before. He was trying to build a personal connection, make her open up so that he could get what he wanted from her. It would be so easy to pour out her life story to this man. She could tell him about the mugger who murdered her brother, about how the police couldn't do anything, couldn't even identify the guy. She could talk about using magic to find him and when the police still could not do anything because she was unable to explain how she could be so certain, using dark magic to violently kill the man who killed her brother. She could tell him how she was only twenty when she became a demon, a sophomore at Texas A&M. How her name wasn't really Calreg; it was Jacquelyn. She could even tell him that maybe she just did not understand scorned lovers because she never had her heart broken. Because she'd never really had the chance to get her heart broken.

It would not do her any good to think about when she was human, though. It was actually occasionally painful to think about that time. She forced herself to be brief. "Yeah, but that doesn't matter anymore. You want to know why I haven't undone the wish. It's because of that whole thing where we only use our powers for evil. Now, it feels like maybe I've done something good, which is not my job and not what I should want." She shook her head. "He'll kill me soon if I don't fix this. Unless someone else kills Anyanka first. And that's what I meant. One way or another, she's going to die, and you can't do anything about that." She should have popped out right then. That would have been a good place, but for some reason, she stayed to hear what Xander had to say.

"Why can't he let this go? It's been five years. Can't that be enough?"

Calreg laughed in spite of herself. She did not think he was actually asking her to deliver a message, but she still imagined saying that to D'Hoffryn's face. "He doesn't let things go. He has spent the last several thousand years perpetuating resentment, fear, anger, and hatred."

Considering what she was telling him, Xander had an amused look on his face. "So, kinda like the dark side then?"

Calreg considered that. "Yeah, you could put it like that. Some people get destroyed, others get sucked in. I guess that would make me like Darth Calreg, which is sort of cool." She needed to get back on topic, and not think about how he was kind of like Han Solo with his coarse, rakish charm and permanent sidekick status. "But the point is that five years is nothing to him. So enjoy it while it lasts and when it's over, know that there was nothing you could have done."

Xander shook his head. "I don't accept that."

That was what made it so difficult for her. Disappointing Anyanka turned out to be just amnesiac Anyanka, and Xander Harris was everything she wanted him to be. Brave, strong, worthy. "If I wanted to, I could make her dead right now. So you should stop wasting time out here with me when you could be with her. I don't even know anything."

Finding another perfect place to exit, Calreg decided to take this one. However, once she was out of that hallway, she could not help wondering if she had left more for his sake than for her own, which a troubling thought. It was really inappropriate to like him so much when he was the offending party in this vengeance scheme. In the end, after talking to Xander, the decision was kind of easy. She had to give them at least a little more time.

–

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**Author's Note:** And that rounds out Calreg's backstory. I don't intend to go into any more detail on her than what is in this chapter. (Which may be a relief or a disappointment.)


	10. Dead Things

**Author's** **Note:** This chapter (and story) assumes that the Scoobies have spoken to Angel and Spike in the last four years, at least briefly, and that they're aware of the broad events of AtS Season 5. (And that Angel and Spike survived the events of that season.)

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**Chapter 10—Dead Things  
**

When Xander first went out into the hall with that demon, Anya listened from the couch for signs of a struggle. Buffy stood near the door, straining to make out what was being said out there, but the look on her face made it clear that she was not having any more luck than Anya.

"So," Anya said, giving up on the eavesdropping. "She said that she brought me back."

"Yeah." Buffy was distracted, still trying to hear something, anything.

Anya was not sure if that was meant to be an answer. "I think I believe her, because she said she's a vengeance demon, and you've been talking about vengeance all night."

Buffy gave one last look at the door before abandoning it for Anya. "Um, we don't really know for sure, but we tend to believe that it's a vengeance thing, yeah."

"And?" Anya prompted. "What does that mean?"

"Vengeance demons... They seek out..." Buffy stopped herself from saying whatever it was she knew about that particular breed. "That's actually the kind of demon you were."

That did not tell Anya anything about what it meant for her that she was there because of vengeance. It did however remind her that she was allegedly a demon turned human. Buffy's pause gave this newest revelation a slight making it up as she went along feel, but Anya ignored that because it also meant that, true or not, they were sticking to that story. "So I'm one of them. Is that why she brought me back?"

Buffy hesitated. "I don't think so. Xander knows more about this than I do. We should wait for him."

So Anya waited until Xander finally came back into the apartment. There was no sign of the demon. "Did you kill her?" Anya asked.

Xander shook his head. "She's not one of the ones that's..." He paused to rethink what he was saying. "That's trying to kill you," he finished with slightly less conviction.

"What did she say?" asked Buffy.

Xander gave another look to Anya before answering. He gave a faux casual shrug. "Not much. She just said these spells are unpredictable."

Buffy was not satisfied by this. "She said that when she was in here."

Xander gave her a pointed look. "Well, then it was just more of the same."

Anya knew he was keeping something from her. It was all in that look. It said, "I'll tell you later." There was something that demon said that he did not want Anya to know. Something the demon had obviously not wanted her to know either. It frustrated her that he thought he had any right to keep things from her. "What exactly is a vengeance demon? What do they do?"

Xander looked a little relieved that she did not know the answers to those questions. "Mainly, they try to perpetuate feelings of hate, anger, fear. And you know, vengeance. It's a pretty hostile career path. You used to be one, though."

Okay, so that part of their story synced up, but Anya could tell there was more that he was not saying. She was not sure if it was because of an innate knowledge of him or just normal tone indicators, but she could hear it in his voice. She repeated her question from before. "Is that why she brought me back?"

He shook his head. So many thoughts ran across his face before he just said, "No."

Not sure whether she believed him, Anya needed to run through the story in her head. The demons from her old job wanted her dead because she disappointed and betrayed them, and that demon was supposed to be from her old job. So that demon had brought her back when the others were happy having her dead. Anya remembered that the demon said she was having the worst day ever, all because of Xander. Because he was mean when he broke up with his girlfriend. Anya wondered if the demon meant her. After all, this vengeance must have had something to do with her. "It was a mistake, wasn't it?"

Xander gave her a pained expression. "I wouldn't say mistake, it's just... It was unexpected."

He was not going to tell her what that meant, what ramifications it might have. He was filtering the information out of some misguided attempt to protect her or something like that. Anya was beginning to comprehend that the real reason he was there was because he was supposed to be the person in their group who knew her best when she was alive. He was supposed to know her better than she knew herself right now. Because they had been engaged. Everyone believed that he knew her so well because he was the man who left her at the altar. She wondered if they could see how incredibly awkward that was for her. "Um, so what's the plan for tonight?" She directed her questions to Buffy. "Am I sleeping on the couch? Is he going home?"

Buffy and Xander exchanged one of their looks, and Anya realized that he was not leaving yet. He still had to tell Buffy all about his secret meeting with the demon. That was another reason he was there, because he was the only one the demon was willing to talk to. The demon who was the same kind Anya used to be. So it would seem that Xander had some kind of connection to all that. Anya thought about asking whether he was strictly human, but it was not necessary. It was another one of those things she just knew.

"We're waiting for someone," Buffy said. "Someone who might be able to help you."

Anya was not sure what she needed help with. Obviously, there were the demons trying to kill her, but that was what Buffy was there for. A thought occurred to her again, one that had been pushing through her consciousness at regular intervals. She was completely at their mercy. She had nothing to her name. In fact, even her name had been given to her by them.

Before she could say anything to inquire about this new helper, Buffy answered the original question. "We have an air mattress, but I don't know where it is. Probably in the facility somewhere. Tell you what, you can take my room tonight, lock the door and all that, and we'll be better prepared for your... situation in the morning. And Xander." She looked at him. "Xander's not staying the night. We're going to wait for our friend, and then he's going back to his apartment."

Anya thought that sounded reasonable. She still did not know what to make of Buffy and Xander, and she was not enthused at the idea of meeting this new helpful entity. Still, right now, her main goal was just keeping herself alive, and she did trust Buffy to do that much. Maybe in the morning Anya would be more prepared to deal with her situation too. Besides, she was still really exhausted. "So I can go to sleep now?"

"Yeah," Buffy said, waving her along. "There's pajamas in the second drawer. Feel free to take whatever you need."

Anya got the feeling that Buffy was eager to get her out of the room, and that was fine with her. She headed straight for the bedroom, not worrying at all about washing her face or brushing her teeth. Personal hygiene was a luxury that could wait until morning. Before she even got the door closed, she heard Buffy say, "So what really happened out there?"

–

About ten minutes after Xander finished telling Buffy everything he knew, Willow showed up at the apartment, and he had to start again. He added in the parts Buffy already knew, like about his fight with Erica and everything that happened with Anya after Buffy found her. When he had completed the entire tale, Willow leaned back in her chair, looking amused at his situation. "You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you?"

Xander was confused by this reaction to the story. "I'm not sure what that has to do with anything."

"It's just with the vengeance... I mean look at your track record." Xander was well aware of his track record, but Willow felt the need to enlighten him anyway. "One stabbed you. One tried to suck the life out of both of us. One wanted to mate with you and then bite your head off. One strangled you. And one was _Cordelia._ And now this one. Face it, you have terrible taste in women."

"Hey!" Buffy took some offense at that. "Present company excluded." She looked over at Xander as she thought about that. "Although, actually, we've both tried to kill you at times too."

Xander wished he could retaliate in some way, but he did not actually have anything against Willow's taste in women. Buffy had some misses in her dating past, but she was not the one attacking him. He just moved on with the conversation. "I notice you didn't mention Anya in there."

"No," Willow said with a slight smile. "I didn't. I think I made it pretty clear how I felt about her." She let that linger for just a second before clarifying. "Which is, you love her, and I love you. And that's all that matters. Don't worry. I'm going to do everything I can to help her. But I'm going to do it for you."

That was really all Xander could ask for. He had always known that his friends, particularly Willow, were not that crazy about Anya. He thought that over the years she was a Sccoby, Willow had at least come to appreciate Anya a little more, but apparently it was only a partial warming to. Still, as long as Willow was willing to accept Anya for his sake, that was enough. "So what's the game plan?"

"Well,..." Willow paused to consider. "In the morning, I'll talk to her, try to suss out what's going on there. We'll need to find out if she's a demon, of course."

"She's not," Xander answered simply.

Willow nodded, humoring him. "We'll just make sure. It's a simple enough spell. You won't even know I'm doing it," she added under her breath. "As for the amnesia, I won't know for sure until I... examine her, but if it's not part of the curse, reversing it shouldn't cause any kind of unintended consequences. We just need to talk about whether restoring her memory is really the best thing to do."

This suggestion seemed to have some weight to it, but Xander was not sure what she was implying. "If you mean because of the demon stuff, I don't think-"

"No, I mean the afterlife." Again, the look she was giving him was somber. "Time passes differently in hell dimensions, and five years here could be the equivalent of several thou-"

Xander had a problem with Willow's basic premise. "She didn't go to a hell dimension." He looked to Buffy for support, but she did not seem to be with him on this. "She died saving the world."

Buffy looked apologetic, as though she knew even before saying a word that he was not going to like what she had to say. "So did Spike, but he was still being sucked into Hell."

"Spike? She's not Spike!" He knew that it was not a terrible comparison, but he hated it nevertheless.

"No, you're right," Willow said. "She was actually a demon for a lot longer, about nine hundred years longer. This isn't me getting down on Anya; it's just something we need to consider."

Xander thought about the story of what Angel had been like after a few months in his hell dimension. Barely human... well, he wasn't human at all, but barely sentient, more like an animal than anything else. It killed him to think about Anya going through that. Then he remembered what Buffy had been like after she came back from Heaven. Even if Willow was wrong about Anya and Hell, the alternative was not much better. Nothing good could come from remembering the afterlife. "No matter where she was, I don't get to make that decision for her. We'll explain the options once we know them, and she will decide what she wants to do about her memory."

"Okay, but Xander..."

He shook his head. "It's not my call. I'm not her husband; I'm not anything to her right now. You'll tell her." He turned to Buffy. "You'll tell her about Heaven and Hell. You'll tell her all about what it was like for Angel and about what it was like for you. You'll explain how either way, it's better not to know. And she'll make the right choice. But she'll be the one making the choice."

Xander knew that Willow did not believe that Heaven was an option, but she still let it go at that. "Well, then there's nothing much we can do until the morning. So what are the sleeping arrangements here?"

Xander glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was after three in the morning. He looked to Buffy for input, but she just shrugged. That left the decision to him. "Well, Anya's here, so I guess you'll stay at my place tonight. Wouldn't be the first time we shared a bed. As long as your girlfriend's okay with it."

"Yeah, she'll be fine." Willow got up from her seat and grabbed up her bag. "But speaking of that, I love Kennedy and all, but I hate you guys and your freaking second chances." She pointed a finger at Xander and nodded her head over at Buffy. "You better not waste yours like that one."

"I don't plan to," Xander said, joining Willow by the door.

Buffy opened the door for them. "He turns evil you know. Completely different situation. And Spike... I don't want to talk about Spike."

As soon as they were on the other side, Buffy closed the door on them with a yawn and a quick good-bye. Once they were in the car, Willow asked, "Have you thought about how you're going to tell the others?

Right, there were others. Xander had not really gotten around to thinking about them yet. There just seemed to be so much to deal with, and if he felt that way, he could only imagine how Anya must feel. "No, but I don't want everyone coming down here at once and overwhelming her or making her feel like a sideshow circus freak."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll make her feel like she's the main event."

He smiled. "Yeah, still..." He gave some more thought to who the others were. There was Giles of course, and Dawn. And Xander supposed that Andrew also had a vested interest in this since Anya died saving his life. Andrew lacked subtlety, and Xander did not really want him around for this. However, once the "others" had been identified, Xander knew that it would not be fair to keep this development from any of them. He calculated the time differences to Europe. It was nearly noon in England and even later in Italy. "I'll call Giles and Andrew when we get to the apartment. I'll just ask them to stay away for a few days." Dawn was in California, where it was still the middle of the night, and she was either sleeping or doing other things that Xander did not want to know about. "And we'll tell Dawn at a more decent hour. I don't think anyone else needs to be told right now."

It was not long before they got to Xander's apartment. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and let the morning come. Morning was when everything could finally start. But he was committed to making the phone calls. Giles let him get by with an abbreviated version of the events, but he had to hang up on Andrew in order to make the questions stop.

In the morning, Willow woke up alone in Xander's bed. She came out into the living room to find him curled up on the couch clutching the phone to his chest. She shook him awake. "Xander, it's time."

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**Author's Note: **Because of traveling, I may not be able to have the next chapter ready in a timely manner. I apologize in advance for any delay.


	11. As You Were

**Author's** **Note: **Still traveling, spending time with friends and family in different locales. Before, I was shooting for a chapter a week, but for the foreseeable future every other week might be more realistic.

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**Chapter 11—As You Were**

Anya sat very still while the red-haired tree woman circled her, muttering in ancient languages and burning magic incense. They had explained to her that this new woman was a witch. That was how she was supposed to help, by piling new spells on top of the old ones.

The longer the witch's examination went on, the more it drove Anya crazy. She wanted to know what the witch was finding out about her, what there was at her core, beneath all the stories she had been told. She knew that the witch was part of the old crew, one of those people who knew her before the death and amnesia, and maybe that meant that she was not to be trusted any more than the others. But she was also the only person offering Anya a link to something more substantial than stories.

At first, as Anya sat there and waited for answers, she focused on trying to remember something, anything. Being a demon, being engaged, being killed, things that should stand out in one's memory. That did not work, and she tried just tracing her steps back from when she ran into Buffy. She was walking down the street in San Diego, She saw the building ahead of her. She couldn't go back any further than that. Finally, she just looked around for something to distract her from those thoughts, but there was not much in the room to do that either. She did note that Buffy had found the air mattress, which meant no more sleeping in a bed for a while.

Finally, the witch stopped muttering and put the incense down on the table. "Okay. let's start with the good news, not a demon."

"We already knew that," Xander said.

"Mm-hmm." The witch nodded brightly. "Also, I think I can restore her memory."

She said this to Xander and Buffy, as though Anya was not even there. Anya wondered if this was some kind of karma for all the times she referred to Xander in the third person. "I'm sitting right here."

"Right, sorry." The witch looked down on Anya. "The actual restoration of your memory should be easy enough, but there are other factors we—you—have to consider."

Anya could not imagine what the witch might mean by that. She glanced over at Xander, but he was hanging his head down, possibly even avoiding her eyes. "Like what?" she asked.

"Like whether you really want to remember. I mean, there's some stuff there that could be really traumatic. Like dying and... what came after that. I could try to work around it, but, if I do this spell, I can't make it a hundred percent that you won't remember that stuff."

Anya tried to understand what she was saying, but it did not seem to matter. "I want to remember it. It's my life" She realized that was not exactly true. "And my death, and I want to remember everything."

"Okay," Buffy said, speaking for the first time since the witch started her witching. "But before you make that decision—Because you're right; it's your life and your death, and the decision is completely yours. There's just some things you need to understand first."

Then Buffy talked for a long time. She started with the actual act of dying. "They don't know; they've never died." Each time was different, but there were similarities. It always happened too quickly. Breathing in the water, falling from the sky, it took so long, but the dying happened fast. Even with all that time to prepare, it happened so much faster than Buffy expected. "Taking a sword across the chest? I can't even begin to tell you what that death would feel like, but it's going to be the least of your problems." Then she told Anya horror stories of the afterlife. She spoke in great, obviously painful, detail about being ripped out of Heaven. And when she was finished with that, she turned her attention to Hell, to her vampire boyfriend who spent hundreds of years there in the span of a few months. The Hell story had less detail, more horror.

Anya heard every word Buffy said, absorbed them all, believed them all. She knew that Buffy had just let her in on the most personal details of her life. For the first time, Anya could remember, she actually felt like she had bonded with someone. But it was all overshadowed by the one huge question that was left over. "Do you think I went to Hell?"

"No," Xander said quickly.

The witch gave him a reproachful look. "It's possible."

Xander made a concession. "There's a slight chance because we were on the Hellmouth."

He was lying to protect her again, but this time it did feel a little comforting. She forced herself to recognize all the possibilities Buffy wanted her to consider. Heaven or Hell, there was no way to know ahead of time. She was not sure which would be worse anyway. If it had been Hell, at least she would have the relief of the torture being over. "I understand what you're saying, but I want to—I _need_ to know everything. No matter what it was, it's part of who I am."

Xander got up from his chair and started to pace. He did not approve of her decision. It didn't matter. He was not the one who would have to live with it.

"There's more," the witch said.

Anya shook her head to show that her decision was final. "I don't need to know more; I'm not going to change my mind."

She took a deep breath. "No, there's more going on than just your amnesia. That was just the good news, that I should be able to give you your memory back. Now we need to talk about the bad. There's something wrong with you, something physical."

Anya did not like the sound of that. "What's wrong with me?"

The witch shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I can just see that it's fractured. The demon didn't know that she was raising you from the dead, and she did it..." She struggled to find the right word. "Incompletely."

That sounded scary and ominous. Xander sat back down in his seat. "But you can fix it, right? You'll figure out what it is and fix it."

"I don't know," the witch said again. "I won't know if I can fix it until I know what it is we're dealing with. Which I don't know if I can diagnose on my own. I think she should see a doctor."

She was doing that thing again where she talked _about_ Anya instead of _to_ Anya. "So I see a doctor. That shouldn't be a big deal. I mean, I'm alive; how bad could it be?"

The witch nodded in a way that was not entirely reassuring. "Well, we can begin with the memory spell, and we'll deal with the rest of it as it goes along." She thought about that for a second. "I just need to get some supplies, and you'll be remembering stuff in no time."

"I'll call the doctor," Xander said, pulling out his phone.

The witch leaned over Xander. "Tell her to hurry.," she said in a low tone. If she was trying to prevent Anya from hearing, she failed.

Xander looked up to see Anya watching them. He did not respond to what the witch had said, probably also hoping it had gone unnoticed. Or else he wanted to change the subject. "We have someone who's equipped to deal with these... supernatural injuries. The only problem is she's not exactly local, but when she gets here, she'll know what's going on with you, and between her and Willow, we'll find a way to fix it."

Anya was glad that he had said the witch's name just then because she had forgotten what kind of tree she was named after. As the witch went for the door to get those supplies she needed, Anya got up from her seat on the couch, maneuvering around the air mattress on the floor. "Thank you for helping me, Willow."

Willow looked surprised by this show of gratitude. "Um, yeah, of course." She reached for the doorknob . "I'll be back soon."

As Xander called the doctor, Anya went over to talk to Buffy on the far side of the living room. "I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you telling me all that stuff about what you went through after you died."

Buffy shrugged somewhat modestly. "It's things you needed to know."

"Yes. Still, I could see that they were not necessarily things you needed to talk about. So thank you for that." Anya had something that she really wanted to ask Buffy about during this time when Xander was distracted with other things. "And I mean, thank you for everything you've done for me, letting me stay in your home and all that. I'm actually starting to feel that friendship thing you all have been talking about. And I was wondering something about that."

Buffy sat cross legged on the couch. "Shoot."

Anya tentatively took a seat next to Buffy. "Well, you said we were friends, and I'm starting to get that now. But you also..." She glanced back to make sure Xander was still involved in his phone conversation. "You seem to be really good friends with my ex-fiance. And the wit—Willow, she also seems to be more friends with him than me. And I guess I just find the dynamic here a little confusing." She had considered that maybe the break-up had been amicable or mutual. But no, he said that she should hate him. " I mean, he left me at the altar, right?"

Buffy squirmed a little. "Right. Well, I mean, it's more complicated than that. You were still... There was still evil to fight, and you were still an important part of out team. And I think you and Xander had... I mean, you apparently..." She trailed off, thinking about that. "By the end, you were definitely able to peaceably coexist in the same working environment."

Xander was off the phone, and Anya knew that he would be joining them soon. She could have asked further questions about the dynamic, but she already knew that Buffy was his friend first. They were close like siblings, and Anya had not even been around for the last several years. "So he's not just here as an ex-fiance who has inside knowledge, but as an actual concerned party? Like as my friend?"

He was walking over now; he probably heard, but Anya did not care. She just waited for Buffy's answer. Buffy looked up and made eye contact with Xander. "Yeah, he's just a concerned friend. Like the rest of us, only with a little more history." She brightened up. "Which soon you will remember on your own, and you won't have to rely on asking us awkward questions. I mean, questions."

Xander came up behind. "What she means is that in the movies, they always say that it's better to let the person remember on her own. I don't know if there's any real basis for that, but... It makes sense that it would be better if it happened more naturally. Or as natural as magic can be."

Anya was pretty sure that was not what Buffy had meant at all, but it was an interesting idea in its own right. She liked the thought that they would stop telling her these stories about her former life because they never meant anything to her anyway. "Does that mean that you won't answer my questions?"

Xander thought about that. "Depends on the question, I guess. But we can't just tell you who you are, you have to remember it."

Buffy stared at him for a second before turning her attention back to Anya. "He's not going to agree with me, but I think you made the right choice about remembering everything. There was a time when I wished I could forget, but... but you're right. It's part of who you are. I mean, Willow's my best friend, but I wouldn't want her picking and choosing the moments of my life that are worth remembering." She glanced up at Xander again. "Which she tried to do once, with disastrous results."

"Can we just talk about something else?" Anya asked. "Something I wouldn't have to remember. It seems like all we ever talk about is me. I don't even really know anything about you guys except that you went to high school in Sunnydale and you fight demons."

Xander nodded. "Mostly Buffy fights demons, and I provide moral support."

Buffy smiled. "I'm the Vampire Slayer. That'll mean something to you soon. There used to be only one. And then there were two. But in that big battle where you died, we managed to unlock the power of the Slayer, and now there are hundreds. You probably wouldn't remember that. But I'm their leader. And Xander..." She pointed at him. "He provides more than just moral support. He keeps us organized, does research, and maintains the facility. He actually does a lot of the training too." She thought of something else. "And he's an amazing carpenter. He made this coffee table and that bookshelf."

Anya was getting the message loud and clear. Yay Xander. Buffy was actually laying it on a little thick. Anya felt like maybe she should just tell them that she didn't hate Xander, but she was not sure whether she was willing to commit to that position. "Yeah, or maybe we could just talk about world events."

–

When Willow got back from the local magic shop, she sat Anya at Buffy's kitchen table to explain the process. "First, I'm going to mix up a salve using these wonderful ingredients." She waved her hand over the assembled herbs, roots and extracts. "And then we'll smear it on your forehead. I'll speak some Latin, invoke the goddess Moneta. Then we'll wash it off, and if everything goes right, you'll start remembering."

Xander was hovering off to the side, which was to be expected. "So salve, Latin, and she has her memory back?"

Willow was glad he asked because it allowed her to segue. "Not exactly." She kept her eyes on Anya. "See, you have over a thousand years of living to remember, and if that all came rushing back at once, your brain could go all kablooey, possibly in the literal sense. And we don't want that, so it has to be a little slower than that. It's not going to be in real time, and hopefully not chronological, but... it's going to take probably a couple weeks before you're quite you again."

Anya nodded, she understood. So Willow went to work making the salve and communing with the goddess, which as far as communions with goddesses go, went pretty well. With a wet washcloth, she wiped off Anya's forehead. "And now we wait."

Anya held her head in her hands, concentrating really hard. "Don't try to force it; just let it come to you," Willow said by way of advice. She left Buffy at the table, but she pulled Xander away to give Anya some space and because she wanted to make sure he was clear on a few things. "You know, this amnesia thing, it's not even part of the curse. She gets her memory back, it's not fix everything."

It was obvious that Xander did not really want to be reminded of those realities right then. He nodded grimly. "Then we'll start with this and deal with the rest of it as it comes along."

Suddenly Anya raised her head and spoke excitedly in a strange Germanic language. Willow looked to Xander for explanation. "The first time she was human, she was Scandinavian," he said with a shrug. "Could that be Norse?"

Willow really wouldn't know anything about that. She felt the need to apologize. "I tried not to make it chronological."

Anya got up from the table. "I was Aud!"

"Oh, no," Willow said uncomfortably. "I wouldn't say you were odd. Just...eccentric."

"No, that was my name." She was too excited to be insulted. "Before Anya, before Anyanka, I was Aud." She went back to chattering in Old Norse.

Willow did not pay much attention to what she was saying since none of them could understand her anyway. "Okay, well, the spell worked. And she remembers English, and she doesn't think it's 1100 years ago. This is really the best case scenario."

Buffy had joined them. "There was a chance she would think it was 1100 years ago?"

Willow knew there was a contingency she had conveniently forgotten to mention. "Small, small chance. The magicks can be a little unpredictable." She wanted to steer the subject away from that. "But look how happy she is to remember that she was Odd. And hey, she just picked up a second language there. This is good."

Willow prayed that Xander was going to see this her way. He watched Anya talking up a storm in her native language, speaking to no one in particular, and after a second, he said. "Yeah, this is good."

–

–

**Author's Note: **I went with the lesser known Roman goddess of memory because Willow's spell was in Latin (which I had complete control over anyway.)


	12. Him

**Author's** **Note: **I'm purposely vague about the doctor. She gets her own introduction in the next chapter.**  
**

–

–

**Chapter 12—Him**

Spike was not sure exactly what brought him to Atlanta. It was one of the few cities on the East Coast with a really well organized Slayer squad. That meant a couple things for him. One, the Slayers there were more likely to know not to stake him, and two, the Slayers there were less likely to need him.

It was tough work being a freelance champion. After what happened in L.A., Spike and Angel had gone their separate ways, which was fine with Spike. But for the last four years, he'd had trouble finding a place to settle down. The real problem was that he knew exactly where he wanted to be, in San Diego, with Buffy, but Buffy was not ready yet to decide whether she wanted him there. So he wandered, but nowhere ever felt like home.

For a little while though, Atlanta seemed as good a place as any for him to stay, at least until he wore out his welcome. Slayers, especially clusters of them, tended to be fascinated by a vampire with a soul. He was not sure if this was because of the incongruity of their existence or because their fabled romances with Buffy, but a good Slayer squad would put him up for at least a month.

The set up in Atlanta was not quite as elaborate as what Buffy had in San Diego, with the dormitories and the formal training facilities. The goal was to buy up a building someday to make everything nice and centralized, but that would take money no one had at the moment. So for now, the girls made their own living arrangements and the squad was based out of the Slayer doctor's large house near downtown. Because of its convenient, wholly owned basement, that was where Spike was staying for the moment.

The one real benefit of being further south was the slightly shorter days, but even in Atlanta, the days were so long in July that Spike got restless in his basement room. On that particular Saturday, he wandered upstairs around mid afternoon because there was nothing better for him to do. He was talking with a young Slayer in the kitchen when the phone rang.

The girl got up from the table. "That's the Slayer line; I should get that." She took the phone from its mount on the wall. There was a pause after she answered, and then she brightened up. "Oh, hi, Mr. Harris. No, she's in New York right now. She should be back... Oh, yeah, okay. Well, you have her cell number, right?"

From the moment Spike heard the Harris name, he took note of the conversation. The Slayer went on explaining why the doctor had gone up to New York, but Spike only wanted to know about Xander's reason for calling, and nothing she said gave him any more information about that. When she finally hung up with Xander, Spike causally asked, "What was that all about?"

The girl sat back in her seat and shrugged. "Some kind of emergency in San Diego. Something they need a specialist for."

That was what Spike was afraid of. He no longer cared about playing it cool. "Was it Buffy? Did he say?"

She picked up a salt shaker and rolled it around in her hands, looking down instead of at him. "He sounded really worried, kinda tense about something. So either it's _really_ bad or it's someone really important. Or both."

Spike looked over at the curtain keeping the glaring midday sun from turning him to ash. He was going to find a way to get to the other side of the country quickly; he just had to figure out what it was. The Slayer put down her salt shaker and gave him a half smile. "I'll call the airport, see if there are any red-eyes to California."

–

So far, it was all about her life in Sjornjost for Anya. She talked a lot about Olaf, about how he was the only one in the village who was not annoyed by her irksome questions. No one else talked to her much; even her own father had often wanted her to stop talking when she was a child. But Olaf loved her exactly the way she was. "He was a big man, burly, a good warrior." Anya looked critically at Xander when she said this part.

Xander was not particularly bothered by the Olaf talk because it was over a thousand years ago and he knew how that story ended, with infidelity and trolls. Besides, his Anya had specifically told him once that she liked him better than Olaf, back when she had full access to her feelings and memories. So she could talk all she wanted about how wonderful he was, because if things continued in the same direction, she would remember Olaf's faults soon enough.

He was much more concerned about the fact that for the last several hours, she had not remembered anything that happened past 8-whatever A.D. When Willow and he were sent out to get more food because Anya had eaten her way through Buffy's pantry, Xander asked her in the car whether there was any possibility that she had erred or miscalculated somewhere.

Willow took some offense at this. "Hey, I calculated the best I could, and I measured twice, cut once. And it's working, maybe not the way we thought it would, but I think, with the info I had, I did pretty well. Plus, and I think we should focus on this, not real time. She remembered twenty years in one afternoon. At that rate, she'll be remembering you in..." The math took some wind out of her sails. "Two months. Less than even. And that's only if..."

Xander was not looking for a pep talk just then. "That's if her memory doesn't stop there. Which is another possibility, right?"

Willow sighed with annoyance, and Xander knew that he had probably just snapped at her when none of this was her fault. He was about to apologize when she answered the question. "Actually, I don't think it is. It's all in there. When she need to conjure up a name, she managed to pull out a made up middle name from her time with you. So, as far as I can tell from my very limited information on the subject, the memories are in there; she just can't get at them. The spell was supposed to work off associations. She was supposed to look at us and remember pieces of her life with us first. That would have been the best case scenario. Worst case was that she would be stuck in a 9th century mindset thinking she was a Viking maiden. We seem to have hit somewhere in the middle. It's just going to take time."

Without realizing it, she had hit the problem on the nose. He made sure to get the apology in before continuing with his concerns. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to attack you or your methods. It's just, what if we don't have time? The demon said that she was going to die one way or another, and we still haven't found a way to stop that. What if this is all the time we get?"

Willow softened. "I guess the memory is really just the tip of the iceberg. I don't know how we can figure out how to stop it when I don't even know what's happening to her."

Xander pulled into the grocery store parking lot. "You know that there's something physically wrong with her, something so serious that the doctor should hurry. Want to clue me in on what you were sensing there?"

Willow shook her head. "I really don't. I have some suspicions, but I want the opinion of a trained medical professional before I voice them. All I'll say is that there is powerful dark magic surrounding... No, there's powerful dark magic _inside_ her body. And because of that I made extra, triple sure that she was not a demon this time around. But she's not; it's not her dark magic. It's this new vengeance demon's. You said she was a fan of yours. Any chance she'd be willing to talk to me about what she did there?"

Xander thought about that. Calreg had been somewhat helpful in her own way. They would not know anything that was happening if it were not for her. Still, Xander did not think that was a resource they could count on be able to mine. "She hasn't reversed the spell and killed Anya yet. I think that's all we can really ask of her at this juncture. She's still a demon, after all."

Willow opened the car door to go into the store. "Buffy said she really liked Chex Mix, which I'm pretty sure they didn't have in ancient Scandinavia. So that might be a good sign."

Xander was not sure how comfortable he felt hanging his hopes on Chex Mix, but it had been a favorite snack food of hers back in the day. That could mean nothing more than she had the same taste buds and Buffy had it in stock. Still, it was something. He did not want to spend too much time away from Anya, so the two of them quickly loaded up the shopping cart and headed back to Buffy's.

When they got there, Anya was still playing Olaf's greatest hits, so Xander did not feel like he had missed anything. Buffy casually mentioned that it was okay if Anya did not want to tell them every detail of what she could remember, but the subtlety was lost on Anya. Xander did not mind that much, even if she was talking about being in love with another man. He was hearing details of her life that he never had before.

Sometime around eleven, after dinner and Chex Mix, Anya began to talk about the local barmaids with a slight bitter tone. "There was one, Rannveig... I never liked her. Everyone knew that she wanted Olaf for herself; he was our village's bravest and strongest warrior. But he swore that he had no—" She started the sentence proudly, but halfway through, her face fell. "He swore... with her Baltic hips..." She chuckled wryly. "He swore that he had no interest in her." Then something hit her like a flash. "Oh god, I was a demon."

She did not sound upset about it, just surprised. She looked up to see all of them staring at her. "I know you already told me that, but it just seemed so... unlikely. I guess the origin story should have been a tip off. Things couldn't have changed that dramatically in five years." She got up from her seat on the couch. "I think that was enough remembering for one day. And it's late, and you need to go home," she said, looking right at Xander. "So, I'm just going to get ready for bed, and we can pick this up tomorrow. With 'the doctor', which doesn't sound at all ominous." She made her retreat to the bathroom.

Willow went to clean up in the kitchen, leaving Xander and Buffy alone in the living room. Buffy stretched out her arms. "I should probably stay with her again tonight; there's still demons out there gunning for her. Have the Alpha team patrol, at least for a couple hours."

Xander nodded. With all this Anya drama, it was easy for him to forget that there were still sacred duties that needed to be taken care of. "Yeah, I'll head over there now. Just tell Willow to meet me there."

He started to get up, but Buffy put her hand on his arm. "Wait, there's something I wanted to say, but Anya was always around." She paused, and Xander waited anxiously to hear whatever it was that she could not say in front of Anya. "It's about what Willow said last night, about not wasting your second chance."

Xander was still worried that she was going to tell him something about Anya that was supposed to change that. He was still trying to figure out what it meant that she had someone else's dark magic inside of her. "What about it?"

"It's not really just that simple. Even with her, if Tara came back now, after five and a half years with Kennedy, it wouldn't be the easiest decision. Or at least, I don't think so."

Xander could see her point with Willow and Kennedy, but he was not sure how it applied to his situation. If she was talking about Erica, then it was an easy decision for him. "I don't think I get what you're saying."

"What I'm saying... I'm trying to tell you that you shouldn't feel obligated to still be in love with her. I mean, you have all that history, and you've been mourning for her for five years, thinking about what you should have done differently, saying that you should have just married her when you had the chance. And now she's back, and you do have the chance to fix all the mistakes you made. But a lot has changed in the last five years, and it's okay if you don't feel the same way you used to." She stopped him from speaking. "I know you're going to say you do, and if that's true, then Willow's right and you shouldn't blow it. But there is a difference between still caring about her and wanting to spend the rest of your life with her, and I just think that you should take some time to figure out what you really feel now."

Xander supposed he could understand what Buffy was saying, but right then, he could not even think about the rest of his life. Time. Both Willow and Buffy wanted him to let these things take time. They did not see the ticking clock hanging over Anya's head. For today, all that mattered was that he still cared. There wasn't time for him to do anything more. None of that was anything Buffy needed to worry about, so he just said, "I'll take that into consideration. Thanks."

Xander had gotten up again because he still needed to give Alpha team their marching orders. Before he could get to the door though, there was a loud insistent knocking on it. Banging like that at this time of night was never a good sign, and he opened the door without even checking the peephole. He had not been expecting to find Spike on the other side.

Spike looked around frantically, but he did not enter the apartment. "Where is she? What's happened?"

Xander started to wonder how Spike had heard, but then he realized that it must have been Andrew and his weird man crush on the vampire. It still did not make sense for Spike to be acting this way over Anya, or at least Xander did not want it to make sense. He was not sure what he was supposed to say.

Spike looked past Xander at Buffy behind him. He sighed with relief. "He said you needed the doctor. I thought you were-" He stopped when Willow stepped out of the kitchen. "Well, the gang's all here. It looks like something dire's going down."

–

Anya turned on the water to drown out the voices outside, and since it was on, she splashed some on her face. The fact that she had really been a demon was not what was messing with her head. It was length of that tenure. The weight of a thousand years had just all come rushing back to her. There were no details beyond that first day with D'Hoffryn, just the crushing weight of her long life. Willow had told her, but somehow hearing it was not the same as knowing it. She understood now why the memories had to come back over time, what Willow meant when she said kablooey.

She heard the pounding on the front door, and she wanted to ignore it. She wanted to stay hidden in this tiny room. Now that she had met D'Hoffryn, now that she remembered meeting him that was, she comprehended what it meant that he had a single minded thirst for vengeance against her. He was pleasant enough in her memory, but she could feel the darkness in him. It was not fair though, for her to let Buffy and Xander deal with her mistakes, whatever they were. She had to at least make an appearance.

She turned off the water and opened the door, but she did not find one of D'Hoffryn's killers standing in the entryway. Instead, it was a strangely familiar blond man. He glanced at her, turned back to Buffy, and then he did an actual double take. "It's the _whole_ gang," he said with a small amount of wonder. Then he looked to Willow. "Now how is that possible? I would have thought you'd learned your lesson about raising the dead."

Anya took a couple steps out of the bathroom. The man had just confirmed what she was already feeling. "I know you."

"We didn't do it this time," Willow said. "So you're with the doctor? Where is she?"

He was staring at Anya. "Still in New York, I wager. I was in Atlanta when this one called." He stayed in the doorway, not coming in. "So the doctor's for you then?"

It was coming back to her slowly, in a fog. "I remember you. I just can't... remember."

Xander turned from the door to look at her, but Anya ignored him. It was like everything she did hurt him, and she was sick of seeing that wounded puppy dog look on his face. She should not have to apologize for remembering something recent just because it was not Xander.

The blond man was looking at her like she was crazy, and Buffy explained concisely. "She was brought back by a demon, and she has amnesia."

"Lucky girl," he said. "Can I come in?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Haven't you been here before?"

He held his hands up as though there was an invisible barrier. "Once, but I didn't come to the apartment. Just give me an invite already."

Buffy waved her hand. "Fine, come in."

Anya was starting to put things together. "Oh, you're a vampire. That's okay; I'm a demon."

"Ex-demon," Xander corrected.

"Right, sorry." Anya smiled, not taking her eyes off the blond man. He had an unusual name; she tried to place it. "It's just you're the first person here I actually recognize. I knew you." Things in the fog took shape. "You were there for me when Xander... When he was mean, when—when we had problems, you were there."

"I bet," Xander said under his breath.

Anya did not know what he meant, and she did not care. This man's name was on the tip of her tongue. It started with an S, something about railroads. It was driving her crazy. "Spike! You used railroad spikes."

Spike nodded. "That I did. Don't much like to talk about those days anymore."

"Oh, did you trade in your black hat too?" The first full memory came to her. "You saved me once. The first time D'Hoffryn was sending guys to kill me, you saved me."

Buffy took Xander's arm and pulled him to the open door. "Well, you should be going now. You have work to do, remember?" She lowered her voice. "You don't need to be here for this."

With one last look at Anya, Xander took his leave. Willow was right behind him. Spike watched them go and then turned back to Anya. "Could you try not to talk that way in front of him? The boy and I barely get along as it is."

At first Anya wondered why everyone was so concerned with Xander's feelings when she was the one going through a difficult time here, but her frustration melted away when Spike said that he didn't get along with the boy. Anya tried to remember more. "It was more than once, right?"

He shrugged. "I reckon there were a number of times your life needed saving."

"No, I mean there was more than one time that Xander did something wrong and you were there. You understood... You always understood better than anyone else." She knew there was something she was missing, a piece that was staying just out of reach. "Maybe it's because you're a demon too." It came to her then how real demons thought of vampires, and the words just kind of slipped out. "A filthy half-bred, but a demon nonetheless."

"Lovely," Spike said under his breath. "Yes, I remember the first time now. We ran into each other at the Bronze and just talked, commiserated."

He was looking at Buffy, emphasizing the _just_ talked, and Anya realized that there was something between those two that she did not want to get in the middle of. It was not a memory that told her that; it was just the atmosphere in the room. "Well, that's all I remember for now. So I'll just get back to getting ready for bed."

She backed her way into the bathroom again. As she washed up for real this time, she reflected on the memories that came back to her that day. In the grand scheme of things, they were not much. Even with Spike, she remember two, maybe three isolated events in what must have been years of knowing him. She still had a long road ahead of her, and it seemed so daunting.

When she came out in her, or really Buffy's, pajamas, Buffy was alone in the living room. "Where's Spike?" Anya asked.

"Huh?" It seemed that Buffy had been lost in her own thoughts. She looked up now. "Oh, well, I don't really have room here for everyone. I mean if Willow didn't stay, then obviously... We have a place for him at the facility. Basement, no sunlight; it's better."

Anya was not sure how it would be better for Spike to be in a building full of young Vampire Slayers. She did not quite remember Slayers yet, but the name was self-explanatory. On the other hand, it was occurring to her then how strange it was that the head Vampire Slayer had invited one into her home for a casual chat. She supposed that was another one of those things that would make more sense when she could remember it.

–

–

**Author's Note:** It is beyond the scope of this story to resolve the Angel/Buffy/Spike triangle, partly because I have trouble deciding how I would want it to resolve. Right now, Angel is not scheduled to make an appearance in this story. But the only reason Spike's here and he's not is because Anya didn't know Angel, and Spike is a good tool for hurting Xander.


	13. The Body

**Author's Note:** In case it's not super clear, the doctor's introduction scene starts immediately after the Buffy finale. (And hopefully it's not _super_ clear, but I'm not anything anywhere near approaching a medical professional. So the doctoring stuff may be inexact.)

–

–

**Chapter 13—The Body**

Jennifer Oakes had just graduated from medical school when it happened to her. As the final battle of Sunnydale raged on the other side of the country, the new doctor was preparing to begin her internship at a hospital in Atlanta. And then one day, without asking for it, she was imbued with power and the sudden knowledge that after racking up a debt of nearly a hundred thousand dollars, her destiny laid elsewhere.

That was not really supposed to happen. Jennifer did everything right. She had the Watcher, she trained for the possibility, and she got too old to be called. When she reached a certain age, her Watcher was reassigned, and that was it. Jennifer had to find a new destiny and learn how to help people in a different way.

She had trusted the system and moved on with her life. She had a career, crippling debt, a lease, and more importantly, she had a fiance. That was the reason a Minnesota girl like her had moved to this hot, sticky city in the first place. She could be a doctor anywhere, but he could only have his great job at Georgia Pacific in Georgia. She had a real life now, the kind she was told not to dream about as a teenager because it might never happen for her.

Then, at the unprecedented age of twenty-seven, she finally became a Slayer. At first, she thought something must be terribly wrong for someone her age to be called up. She tried to contact her Watcher, but the number was disconnected. It had been maybe a year since she spoke to him, so maybe that did not mean anything. She used the number she had for the Council, but it was out of service as well. That was not necessarily surprising since she had never even tried out that number before and she had no idea if it was ever a viable line. Still, she knew, something was terribly wrong.

That first night, her prophetic dreams started, and there was something strange about them. The Slayers of the past, the girls in her dreams, a lot of them weren't Slayers of the past. Many of them were still alive. It took a few more nights for her to understand what was happening. They didn't need her; there were hundreds of them now, all Slayers. She had a choice; she could keep her life, and she would never have to worry about vampires or demons unless she was faced with one. But the dreams kept coming.

One was of a young girl walking through what Jennifer recognized as the Atlanta hotel district at night. Outside the Westin, two vampires approached her. As she ducked and blocked, it was clear to Jennifer that the girl did not know how she was able to move like that. She instinctively did a roundhouse kick that sent one vampire flying. "Slayer," the other one said. He pulled his friend to his feet and they both ran. The girl sank down on the curb and started to cry.

Jennifer woke with a start. She looked over at her sleeping fiance and made her choice. She snuck out of bed and down to her car. When she got to the Westin, she found the young Slayer exactly where she knew the girl would be, no longer crying but still confused and upset. It took some talking to get the girl to let Jennifer give her a ride home. On the way, she tried to explain what was happening, but it sounded insane to her own ears. The girl believed her anyway. At the apartment building, Jennifer gave the girl her number and told her to call anytime.

That night, dropping off a scared fifteen year old, Jennifer discovered what her role was in this new world. In that first week, she had been able to discover that the Watchers Council was destroyed and that her own Watcher and his new Potential had been murdered months before. Those with real training and knowledge were fewer and further between than ever. For all Jennifer knew, she could be the most knowledgeable person on the Slayer in all of Georgia. There were hundreds of girls out there who had never picked up a weapon, never read a demonology text. And the Slayer, the blonde in her dreams, couldn't find them all by herself. Not quickly enough anyway. Jennifer was right the first time; they didn't need her to be a Slayer. There were plenty of those in the world now. What they needed was someone to train and lead them.

She found others. Several local teenagers, a couple students at Georgia Tech, one at Emory. There was even one at the University of Georgia who drove down from Athens every weekend. Jennifer trained them while still going through with her internship. It was the most grueling experience of her life. There were nights when she came off a thirty hour shift and had to go out patrolling with her girls. But when she survived the year with eleven capable Slayers and a license to practice medicine, she decided it was all worth it. After that, everyone started referring to her as "the doctor" because, in Slayer circles, there were a couple dozen Jennifers, but only one doctor.

She stayed in Atlanta, and the girls came to her. Her medical career did not turn out quite the way she expected; she ended up with a very different specialty, one she had to teach herself, but at least she had a medical career. She even got to keep the fiance. Sure, he was a little put off when he found out she had hidden the truth about some things, like that she actually studied fencing long before taking it up in college. The vampire thing was a lot for him to deal with, but he adjusted and he stayed, and Jennifer still got to have the kind of life that she was never allowed to dream about.

–

Saturday night, as she slept on the mattress in Buffy's living room, Anya recaptured her first memory of Xander Harris. They were in history class, first period. It was the first chance she had gotten to get a really good look at him. Anya could not remember why now, but she could feel that she really did not like Xander, that maybe she had already not liked him before she even saw him.

In saying what she did to Spike, she had pretty much conceded that she and Xander were in a relationship at some point, but that was not necessarily what she had been remembering. She just recalled that Xander had upset her before those times Spike was there to be understanding. Up to this point, it did not seem that Buffy and Xander and the rest of them had lied to her about anything. It was all coming together the way they said. But this memory of Xander, of disliking him right from the beginning, it fit better with how she felt about him now. She just could not imagine that she had ever wanted to marry the man.

In the morning, Anya made the decision not to mention her memory of Xander. It would probably make everyone happy to hear that, hey, she remembered something about him, but she wanted to wait until there was more. Her history with Xander was important, and she did not want other people coloring it with their interpretations and explanations. She was not sure that she trusted their version anyway. No one could really know what a relationship was like except those who were in it, and Xander might have his own reasons to lie. Of all the things in her life, this was the one thing she knew she needed to remember on her own.

Anya's dreams had brought other memories too, vague memories from her demon days. The thousand years were filling out a little, becoming less intimidating. None of the memories were of wishes or vengeance. She recognized that they painted an incomplete picture of her life, maybe even a misleading one. She knew that she had done bad things, evil, demony things, but the memory of them was staying away from her for now. Maybe her mind did not think she was ready to handle them yet. She supposed that she could not very well get mad at her mind for trying to protect her.

Buffy was up, making noises in her room. Anya dimly recalled the sound of water running while she was trying to sleep, and that was enough for her to assume the bathroom was free. She showered quickly and went through the stack of clothes Buffy had set aside for her the day before. As she put on Buffy's clothes for the second day in a row, Anya began to think about the future.

When she came out of the bathroom, Buffy was in the living room, deflating the mattress and moving it out of the way. She looked up with a smile. "I can't keep leaving that there for however long."

Anya remembered that smile. It happened so suddenly. One second, she was looking at Buffy's face, and the next, that same face was so familiar to her. There was nothing specific; she just knew that she had seen that smile so many times before. Anya shook it off. "Right, I've been thinking about that. Eventually, I'm going to need... more permanent arrangements, my own clothes for example." Buffy turned away from her. "I mean, I'm willing to work," Anya clarified. "I'm sure I can do whatever Xander does, other than making bookshelves. It's just, maybe I should move into those dormitories and stop taking up space in your living room."

Buffy turned back to look at Anya. She grew pensive, just staring at Anya. Finally, she spoke. "Well, obviously, you can do whatever you want. And, yeah, this will have to be temporary. Um, but I think it might be best to wait until we know what's wrong with you. Physically, I mean. Which we should soon. The doctor is flying in today. Xander's picking her up at the airport later, and Willow has already worked her mojo to get us hospital access. So, yeah, if you want to, but there's no hurry."

Anya was not particularly anxious to move into the dormitories, so she accepted Buffy's answer for now. She had almost forgotten about the doctor, about this vague thing that was wrong with her. She felt fine. Everything felt in order in there, and she could not begin to imagine what the witch had seen that was causing all this hullabaloo. She did not want to think about it, so she changed to a more neutral subject. "I remembered more last night. I was in Paris, I want to say during the Napoleonic era."

Buffy nodded like that meant something to her. Then she said, "Which was when exactly?"

Anya had to think about that. The timeline was all jumbled in her mind. "Early 19th century, I think. Later, I was in the Crimean Peninsula, and that's important for some reason, but I can't remember it now."

Buffy opened her mouth to ask another question, but she stopped herself. "I'm not that good at history," she said apologetically. "But I think I've heard of the Crimean War."

"Yes!" That triggered something for Anya. "I was there during the war. But that's not it." She thought harder about what of note might have happened during the war. "Oh, well. I'm sure it'll come to me eventually. I remember Paris much better."

Buffy sat down on the couch. "Okay, tell me about Paris."

–

Xander made a difficult decision on Sunday morning, to stay away from Buffy's apartment and give Anya a little bit of space. To give her time she probably did not have. Even while he worried about everyone else crowding her, he knew that he was the only one who made her uncomfortable. It was all just highlighted for him when she remembered Spike. Seeing the others might actually be good for her; seeing Xander wasn't. He wanted too much from her, and she could feel it.

He did not intend to stay away for long; he was not going to give her that much space. The doctor's flight would come in just after noon, and then he would accompany everyone to the hospital. But just for the morning, he could take the pressure off Anya.

Xander did not know the doctor that well. There was never any need to get to know her. She was so self-sufficient, so organized, so well trained. She ran Atlanta like a well oiled machine. She required no oversight from the core leadership, and while there were so many other things that did need their attention, it was easy to leave the doctor to her own devices and call on her only when there was a medical emergency, which was not that often. As he arrived at the airport, he had trouble even remembering what the doctor's real name was.

Luckily, he came up with Jessica, which was probably it. It was something common like that. He did have the added problem of not being sure he would recognize her when he saw her. The only thing he could remember was that she kind of looked like she grew up on a farm, but she didn't. She was wholesome and Midwestern looking. And tall. That was not much to go on, but he figured she would find him at the gate. Xander had discovered early on that the eye patch made him stand out almost everywhere. This proved true once again when the tall Midwestern looking woman walked up to him.

When they got to his car, the doctor asked Xander for a more detailed medical history of the patient. He told her what he could about Anya, omitting the pesky personal details that were sure to surface sooner or later.

The doctor nodded. "Okay, resurrected by a demon. That's a new one for me, but... I'm not hearing the medical problem here. My understanding of these things is that the magic part of it kinda takes care of the rest. What exactly do you want me to look for?"

That was a good question, one for which Xander realized he did not have an answer. "I don't know. Willow has a theory she's not willing to share with me, but I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when we get there."

"Oh." The doctor seemed to have gotten something more out of his words than he meant to convey. "This is personal for you."

Xander glanced at her. "Does that make a difference?"

She shook her head. "As her doctor, no. As a really nosy person, yeah, kinda."

Xander thought about that for a few moments, and then he decided to give the doctor a little more. "I was supposed to marry her."

"And then she died?"

Technically, yes, but that would make it too easy. "No, then I just... didn't. And then, later, she died."

The doctor was quiet for a while, and Xander thought that would be the end of that discussion, but then she said. "That's kind of a strange way to put it, that you were _supposed_ to marry her. Not that you used to be engaged or anything like that, but that it was supposed to happen. Like even though you just didn't marry her, you always thought you would eventually."

That insight was eerie coming from someone he barely knew. "I think you're reading a little too much into my word choice."

She shrugged. "Probably. I have a tendency to do that." She smiled and shook her head. "Especially after spending five years being a surrogate mother or big sister to over a dozen Slayers. You kind of have to read between the lines of what teenagers say, particularly when they're talking about boys. But you are a boy, or a grown man actually, so it's totally different and not really any of my business. I guess I've just gotten used to everything being my business because I'm the one handing out the birth control prescrip—And since you're kind of my boss, I feel the need to clarify that I don't actually give them birth control unless they're over eighteen, and even then, it's a judgment call. Please, for the love of god, stop me from talking."

Xander had not quite realized that she was babbling until she pointed it out herself. He was only half listening to her because his mind was still on Anya. "Right. Um, well, we're almost to the apartment, and then you can talk to Willow, and..." He could not stop thinking about how she had interpreted what he said before. "You know, maybe I did always think it would work itself out. No, not always, but there were times after she became human again, when it really seemed like... Because it wasn't that I didn't love her; I just wasn't ready to marry her then."

The doctor nodded. "I always thought I'd move back to Minneapolis after med school, but then my boyfriend got a job in Atlanta, and he asked me to go with him. And it seemed crazy to uproot my entire life for one man, no matter how good looking and charming he was. But I agreed to go, with serious unspoken reservations, because I loved him. And on moving day, he proposed, and when I said yes, I thought, god, this could be the biggest mistake of my life."

"And was it?" Xander was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"No, I married him." She held up her left hand to show off the ring. "It's working out great. But the point is, when I got engaged, I wasn't ready to marry him either. This whole Slayer thing allowed me to stall for almost three years, and I needed that time to get used to the idea that I was betting my whole life on that man."

He could tell she was trying to help, but she couldn't, not with that part of it. "Yeah, but the difference is you married your guy, and it's working out great. It was a nice story though."

The doctor twisted her ring around on her finger. "That's another thing I do. I tell personal stories to show how well I can empathize despite my advanced years."

Although she still seemed pretty chipper, Xander thought that he might have been a little too brusque before. "Mission accomplished. I feel very empathized with." He found a spot in the street parking between Buffy's apartment and the facility. "Here we are."

She opened her door onto the sidewalk. "Well, then, let's see if we can save the life of your ex-fiancée."

Upstairs, the doctor introduced herself to Anya. It turned out her name was Jennifer, so Xander was close. After introductions were out of the way, the doctor and Willow went into the other room to discuss whatever it was that Willow thought was happening. This left Xander with Anya and Buffy for the first time since Spike showed up. He really wanted to ask what happened there, but he forced himself not to. He knew nothing would have happened between Spike and Anya while Buffy was there, and Xander had learned not to ask about Buffy's interactions with various ensouled vampires. So he opened with generic, meaningless small talk. "So how's everything going?"

"Good," Buffy said. "Anya's been filling me in on what she can remember from her demon days. Although, so far, there's nothing actually demony."

Xander had heard a lot of demony stories over the years. "That's too bad; the demony stuff can be quite... horrifying."

Anya narrowed her eyes at him, making a face Xander did not quite understand. She was either doubting his assessment or she was disappointed that he was not able to handle hearing about the work she had always been so proud of. She turned her gaze to the kitchen. "What are they talking about in there? Why am I not allowed to know what's wrong with me?"

Buffy shrugged, so it was left to Xander to answer. "It's not like that. Willow just wants to wait for a legitimate medical opinion. There's no point in scaring you with a lot of unsubstantiated theories. I think it's best to wait until the doctor has done her tests or whatever and hear what's really going on with you."

Anya shook her head. "I was cut in half. I died. I get that it's bad," she said slowly and deliberately. "So just tell me what it is."

"We don't even know. She was waiting for the doctor before she said anything." It occurred to Xander then that just because he did not know anything, it did not mean that Willow had not talked to Buffy about it. He looked at her now. "Right?" he asked.

Buffy held up her hands. "Hey, I was right there with you when she said her cryptic thing about incompleteness. I don't know anything more than that. But we will soon, now that Dr. Oakes is here."

Anya smiled. "Right, and I'm just supposed to trust this doctor because you guys trust her." It was not a question. "And I'm supposed to trust you because... because you say so. But the one person I actually remember, you send away without even telling me. It's just a little frustrating."

Something in Buffy's expression informed Xander that this was the first time she was hearing this particular complaint. She shifted her weight. "Oh, Anya, I wasn't trying to keep you away from him. I wasn't really thinking about you when... It's complicated for me to be around Spike. And it's complicated for him to be around me. And we are just both really complicated. But you're right. You didn't really get to talk to him much, did you?"

"No." Anya started to say something more than that, but Willow and the doctor came back into the room before she could.

The doctor gave Anya a warm, friendly smile. "Willow is afraid that you may have sustained some internal injuries that weren't dealt with in the spell. So I want to do a diagnostic body scan, just to see what we're dealing with. And then we'll see what issues arise from that."

Anya sighed impatiently. "What kind of issues are you anticipating?"

The doctor neatly sidestepped the implied question of what Willow had said. "Oh, I can't do all that magic voodoo. I have no way of knowing what's going on inside you without machinery. So, let's get to the hospital, so we can answer those questions for you."

Anya willingly followed the doctor out of the apartment. As Buffy was locking up, she held Xander back to talk to him. "I'm not going to the hospital with you guys. I need to check on the girls, spend a couple hours getting the training back on track. Anya and I already discussed it, and she said it's okay. So, I know she still gets frustrated, but I really think she's starting to trust us, all of us."

Xander understood what she meant. It was clear that Anya felt a little bonded to Buffy over the whole dying thing, but if she was willing to go to the hospital without Buffy, that was definitely a new step in a good direction. He nodded in response. "We'll see."

At the street, Buffy broke off from the group and everyone else got into Xander's car. Once again, Anya chose to sit in the back, which he supposed was not that odd. It was a short drive to the hospital where Willow had secured access to the equipment the doctor would need, and no one spoke much during the trip.

While the tests were being run, Xander and Willow waited in the waiting room. It seemed to be taking an awfully long time, but each time Xander checked his watch, he found that it had not been nearly as long as he thought. Willow still refused to tell him any of her theories, even though they were so close to the confirmation process. After about an hour and a half, the doctor called the two of them to join Anya in a consultation room.

When Xander came into the room, there was already something that looked like an X-ray projected onto the wall. The image itself told Xander very little, but from the look on Anya's face he was able to gather that the news was not good. He sat down near Anya, but not too near, and waited for the doctor's explanation.

The doctor began by gesturing at the image on the wall. "These are the results of Anya's CT scan. She and I have already discussed what they mean in broad terms, but now I'm going to be a little more specific. Basically, Willow was right, and I need to tell you about the science portion of that." She pointed more closely at a section of the scan. "You see this? This is where her heart is in two distinct pieces. It should not be beating. Right here is where her spine is completely severed. She should be paralyzed. Her lungs should be filling up with blood." She move her hand to point out each new medical problem. "These organs down here are less vital, but... at the very least, digestion should be difficult for her."

Xander was not sure what this all meant. "But—but she's not paralyzed or..."

"I know," the doctor said, as though it was kind of exciting. "Also, her heart is definitely beating. I've heard it; she has a good, strong pulse. There's no respiratory problems that I can hear. I sent out some blood work, but I have a feeling that we're not going to find anything wrong there either. Apparently, there's no blood in the stool or anything like that. So what I'm saying is, these scans are of someone who was cut in half—you can actually see where—but her body is not behaving as though it was cut in half. Which is where the unscientific part comes in."

Xander was starting to understand. "The powerful dark magic inside her."

Willow nodded. "This pretty much confirms that the demon's magic is literally the only thing keeping Anya alive. I know it seems like we already knew that, but this is a different level. This is very delicate magic; it's unstable. I don't think your demon could sustain it for long even if she wanted to. And from what you've said, I'm not sure she's even aware of the particulars." She turned to Anya. "This isn't like your memory. This isn't something I can just fix."

There was a certain finality in that pronouncement. Anya looked so resigned to her death that it scared Xander. After hearing how he would not be able to save the girl, it seemed that this would be the time to accept that. But he couldn't. "No. You're the most powerful witch in the world. You can do things no one else can do. I'm sure if you just think about it, or do some research or something, you'll find a way to fix this."

Willow sighed. "I am not the most..." She shook her head. "I have some thoughts. I've been thinking about it all day, and there may be options." She held up her hand to stop any questions. "Let me finish. It wasn't a supernatural death. Bringers are supernatural beings, but when all is said and done, she was killed with an ordinary sword, and that makes it a natural death. I wouldn't have been able to bring her back from that, no matter how dark I went. No one should be able to bring her back, and that would make it seem like there is nothing I can do. Because this involves magic I will never have access to. But I have a theory. We don't touch the magic."

Xander was sure that he could not be the only one who was confused. He looked at the doctor, and she shrugged. Anya scrunched up her face and asked, "Then what you going to do?"

"Not me. You're going to do it." Willow smiled like this was all very good. "Back when you were human, back in the old days, you were a witch, right?"

"Eleven hundred years ago," Anya reminded her.

Willow waved that away like it was no matter. "But you're much closer to those memories than that. You vividly remember the time before you were a demon. I just need to teach you how to be a witch again, and you'll be able to heal yourself." She rubbed the back of her neck. "In theory."

–

–

**Author's Note:** The doctor may come off as really close to being a Mary Sue, but let me assure you that she is far from perfect. To that point, the one big fault that I had in mind was that she doesn't put quite as much work into her marriage as she should. (In case you can't tell, I really don't want to be writing Mary Sues.)


	14. Lessons

**Chapter 14—Lessons**

Anya was skeptical when Willow told her that she could learn how to be a witch and heal a heart that was completely cut in half, not to mention the spine and lungs and all her other vital organs, and that she could do all this in the time it would take for the demon to realize that Anya was sapping her energy. But Willow assured her that it was not really as hard as it sounded.

It seemed that it would be best to start the healing as soon as possible. So at Willow's instruction, Xander took them to a park because the first step was communing with nature, or something ridiculous like that. There on the grass, Anya discovered that Willow had lied. It was exactly as hard as it sounded.

Xander and Dr. Oakes went off to give them space to concentrate. They could not go too far, however, because there was still the possibility of an attack on Anya's life, and she needed to have a Slayer handy just in case. It kind of made Anya feel important that she had these bodyguards. They weren't just Slayers who were keeping her safe; they were the head Slayer and the Slayer doctor. As far as Slayer bodyguards went, they seemed to be status symbols in their own right.

The first thing Anya had to do was sit on the grass and clear her mind. Then she was supposed to believe in the earth's energy. She had to actively believe that the power of the earth could heal her and keep her mind clear. At the same time. And Willow pretended those were not mutually exclusive mental processes.

Willow directed her to place her hands at her side and dig her fingers into the dirt. "This doesn't usually require direct contact with the earth, but for a beginner, it's better to start with the basics. But don't expect anything to happen today. "

Anya opened her eyes. "So while believing it will happen, I shouldn't expect it to happen? Are you _trying_ to drive me insane?"

"Wouldn't be too hard," Willow said under her breath. "You have to believe that it could happen, not that it will. Nothing can happen at all, ever, unless you believe in the healing power of the earth. You have to allow yourself to feel connected to everything through the earth."

Anya closed her eyes again and concentrated on feeling connected. She breathed deeply. She was finally starting to approach a meditative state when Willow spoke up again. "Now, I want you to think about when you first started to practice magic."

Anya sighed heavily. "I thought I was supposed to clear my mind."

"You were." Willow said impatiently. "And now, you're supposed to think about when you first started to practice magic. That is the other very important ingredient, accessing the magicks. Because I know that somewhere in there you are a witch. You turned a guy into a troll."

She didn't have to get so huffy about it. Anya went back to her deep breathing and focused on remembering how she got started in witchcraft. The village witch bought furs from her sometimes. She was marginalized too; she did not even actually live in the village. No one knew where she lived. She never spoke to Aud of anything except furs, but there was always a knowing look in her eye. One day, she paid for her furs with a book instead of the usual herbs. Aud assumed it was a fair trade. The witch never came back after that day.

That was not quite the memory she needed, so Anya dug deeper. It was months later that Aud even opened the book. She had never been much of a reader, and it looked old and uninteresting. There were no markings on the front to give her any ideas what the book might be about. But Olaf was off on a hunt, and it was raining and the chores were done, so she took the book off the shelf and blew on it to remove the dust. The memory ended there, but even recalling those tidbits made Anya feel something more coming to her from the ground.

So now she needed to believe and feel and concentrate and allow and not expect too much. But it seemed that the more she tried to shut out the noises of life around her, the more they distracted her from her meditation. Her concentration shot, she let herself be distracted. It turned out it wasn't her; the chatter was actually getting louder.

She opened her eyes for the first time in she did not know how long. She looked around for the source of the jubilant shouts, and her eyes settled on a frat boy football game. She did not know why she described it that way in her mind. There was nothing to suggest the players were in a fraternity. It hit her in a flash, hard. _It's not about them._ She had no idea what that meant, but it suddenly made her feel very uncomfortable to look at the game.

She turned back to Willow. "How will I know when it's working?"

"You'll know," was Willow's enigmatic answer. She looked at her cell phone display. "It's been fifteen minutes; try again. Today is not about healing. It's about getting back in touch with the ancient powers." She demonstrated the breathing for Anya again.

Anya tried to go back to the meditating and the breathing, but it was not working this time. All she heard were the sounds of the game. _It's not about them_, she thought again. She wondered what that was supposed to mean. She felt that if she could just remember what it _was_ about, then... What? Something would make more sense. Whatever it was about was important. She was sure of that much.

She shook her head and told herself to concentrate and not listen to the game. On that rainy day, all those years ago, she opened a book. Some of it was written in an ancient language she did not understand. _Yelling out random numbers, followed by "Hike!"_ She did not understand the language, but she understood what the book meant, what kind of payment the witch had really been offering. _Laughing and good-natured accusations of cheating._ She read out the words of one of the spells—at least, she thought it was a spell—and nothing happened. Magic did not work that way; it was not just words. _Calling a timeout for a much needed water break. _

Anya was almost there. She needed to shut out the game and remember what she did next. What action had she taken to harness those forces? She gripped the dirt more tightly to draw up power. In her mind, she commanded the earth to give her back her memories. _Screaming, dying violently._

She pulled her hands quickly out of the ground as though she had been bitten by something. Those were not the memories she was asking for. The screaming, the people dying violently, that came much later. She found herself staring at the football players again.

Willow sighed. "You're not even trying now."

She did not know what the earth had given Anya. It was going to come back now, the demony stuff. The earth was supposed to be healing her body; there was a whole different spell for the mind. But when she finally harnessed the earth's energy, the spirit world, the life force that connected all things, whatever it was she was harnessing, she asked, insisted, commanded that it give her back memories. She wasted the opportunity, and now she would have to go through all of this again, with the added burden of those bloodcurdling screams. Try clearing those from her mind next time.

She was exhausted, drained. She heard Willow speaking, but she kept her eyes on the field beside her, where the players were lining up to resume their game. She would die unless she kept communing with nature, but would that really be so bad? Just for a second, she was tired enough to think that she might be ready to die. She understood the price. She realized that those were not today's thoughts, whatever that meant, and with that realization, she was ready to try again. But not right then. She needed time to rest and recharge. She steadied her voice. "I can't do it here with all these people around."

Willow looked at her more closely. "Oh." Anya did not know what she was seeing. The witch got to her feet and held out her hand to help Anya. "Okay. Then we'll just have to go deeper."

Anya followed Willow over to Xander and Dr. Oakes. Willow explained to them what Anya needed, which turned out to be a trip out into the California desert. Anya almost protested because it sounded so extreme, but she supposed that would be the natural extension of what she had said about people. Driving out to the desert was better than telling Willow the truth in front of everyone. In front of Xander, really.

From there the plan fell quickly into place, not giving Anya time to change her mind even if she wanted to. Xander would loan Willow his car, and she and Anya would make the trip alone, with Willow assuring Anya's safety. They drove by the facility to drop off the others. Xander unloaded the doctor's suitcase from the trunk, and Anya got out of the car to move to the front seat.

A strange little man ran out of the building. He was new. He stopped a few feet away from her, and said, "It's really true. You're alive" Then he enveloped her in a tight hug. "And corporeal."

From this, Anya assumed that she had known the man. She was not entirely comfortable having him hug her, but she tried to let the memories come back. "Yep, I'm alive."

He got even more emotional. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't able to..." Anya hoped he was not going to start crying on her shoulder, even if she was wearing Buffy's shirt. She waited for him to tell her what he was sorry for not doing. "I should have been more help. Maybe you wouldn't have died if I-"

Anya pushed him away, prying him off of her. It was coming back to her. For a moment, she actually felt as though her insides were all jumbled. She saw his face, saw blood, and finally saw nothing but empty blackness. "I was supposed to live."

It was just a moment, just a memory. The way they were all staring back at her, she knew that she had to explain. "That's the only thing I had time to think. That I was supposed to live, and if anyone was going to die, it was supposed to be him." That was a horrible thing to say, but she remembered thinking it at the time. There was more to it however, a nicer element. "But I'm glad you didn't. Seeing you now, finding out that you survived, it makes me happy. Who are you?"

He took a deep breath and smiled shakily. "Andrew." He stepped forward with his hand extended. "I'm Andrew; we were friends."

There was a slight question in the statement, as though he needed her to confirm that they were indeed friends. She could not do that though. So she shook his hand and shrugged.

Xander must have seen Andrew's disappointment because he put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Take it easy there. She's already remembered more about you than she has about me."

That was not actually true. She just had not told Xander what she remembered about him. Now here was another man who wanted more from her. Probably not in the same way Xander did, but more nonetheless. That put her in mind of the one man she had recognized right away. She was sure that her recognition of Spike meant very little to him, and maybe that was why she could remember him. Because there was no pressure to.

She knew that she had to say something. "I do remember. We fought together." As she said that, she remembered that he was actually cowering in the corner. She decided not to mention that. "So... I'm going to the desert with Willow, but maybe we could talk later sometime."

He nodded, putting on a brave face for her. Unsure what to do, Anya signaled Willow that she was ready to leave. As she slid into the passenger's seat, it occurred to her what Andrew wanted from her. Through the open door, she called back to him, "It's not your fault I died." She had no idea whether or not it was true.

It was not until they were a few miles down the road that Anya began to reflect on the fact that she had never made the effort to tell Xander what he wanted to hear. She had looked at Andrew's pathetic eyes and just kept saying things to make him feel better, whether she meant them or not. And yes, it had partly been to make things easier for herself, but wouldn't accommodating Xander also have that same effect? There had to be something she could say to ease the pressure that _his_ sad, pathetic eyes—eye—put on her without leading him to any mistaken belief that they could have a future. Besides, he had already left her; maybe a future was not what he wanted anyway. Even then, as she tried to think of what those words could be, something inside her was telling her that she did not want to accommodate Xander, that she should not care about making him feel better, and that, no matter what was in that eye, she did not owe him anything. He _left_ her. That was a piece of information that almost escaped her sometimes. Xander Harris had left her at the altar, his words. She might not actually remember it, but she did not need to to know what it meant, which was that Xander's feelings were not her concern.

–


	15. The Killer in Me

**Chapter 15—The Killer in Me**

It was late when Anya and Willow got back to Buffy's apartment. Willow offered to walk her upstairs, but Anya insisted that it was not necessary. It turned out she was wrong because Buffy's door was locked, and knocking on it did not yield results. So Anya trudged back down the stairs and, exposed, at night, walked the block to the facility. Twelve hours ago that might have scared her, and with the things she had been remembering, maybe it still should have. Still, she was far too worn out from the meditating and the remembering (and hopefully, the healing) to worry about the things that went bump in the night and wanted to kill her.

Anya had not actually been inside the facility yet. At this time of night, it, like the street outside, was a ghost town. Most of the Slayers were either sleeping or patrolling. Anya assumed that was where Buffy was as well, out and untrackable. But she figured someone there had to have the keys. Or alternately, there were supposed to be available beds somewhere in this building. She just needed to find someone who could help her.

The familiar, accented male voice came from behind her. "Out for a stroll?"

She turned to look at Spike. The one person she actually remembered entirely on her own. She had not gotten a chance to talk him the night before, but the thing was she did not really feel a pressing need to talk to him now. Not just because she was feeling burned out from her trip to the desert, but also, she just did not remember enough to have anything to talk about. "Not quite. I got locked out. But I did manage to cross the street all by myself without getting killed."

He smiled at her. "Only the incredibly brave and the incredibly stupid beasties hang around this close to Slayer central."

Anya could understand that. In her time, there had only been one, much easier to avoid. Buffy had mentioned that, there only being one Slayer, but the thought had come from an instinctive place, not from being told. "And which one are you?"

He nodded, evaluating her shrewdly. After a moment, he said, "I'm not supposed to tell you anything. But if you're looking for a spare key, I can show you where Buffy's office is."

Anya followed him to the office, thinking about what he had said. "You can't even tell me things about yourself? Vampire living with Vampire Slayers. There's got to be a story there."

"There is, and you were around for every last bit of it. So you can figure it out on your own." The office door was locked as well, and Spike used his shoulder to pop it open.

"But so we were friends then?"

He turned on the light and sat in the desk chair. He contemplated her question for a second. "I'm not sure I would say that, no. Here's what I can tell you about you and me. I did actually kind of like you. I always thought you were far too good for Xander. Under slightly different circumstances, yeah, I think maybe we could have been friends. But the ways things came down, we never really were. And that's all you need to know."

Anya had spent that night working on healing herself, but she had made more progress with her memories than with her body. There was one memory that had been prominent among them. In fact, every time she felt close to the earth's power, another disturbing vision of the ascension of Lohesh had risen up to interrupt the process. She had tried to hide it from Willow, tried to stamp down the memories, and she had succeeded until this moment. She was looking at Spike, wondering what that even meant, _the way things came down._ And then it was all vampires and killing, and the memory of the massacre at the Koskov Valley boiled up again. She pushed those thoughts away as best she could. "Okay, so where do you think she keeps her keys?"

Spike opened the top drawer and held out a keychain. "I didn't mean to upset you. Because you were right last night, too. There were times that we commiserated; they were just isolated."

She took the keys from him. "I'm not upset." He wouldn't understand. Or maybe he would. He was probably the only one who had ever been involved in a proper massacre. But he was a vampire; he wouldn't see the horror. Anya felt that was wrong or unfair, but she did not know why. That didn't matter. She did not want to talk about it, not yet anyway.

She had to find something else. "It's just that you're the only person here who likes me better than him. Buffy and Willow are great and all, but I know that at the end of the day, they are _his_ friends; they've always been his friends. And then there's you, and you think I'm too good for him, but we're not friends. I still don't have any friends of my own." That had only been a way to lead the conversation and her mind away from the decimation of the village, but now that she said it out loud, she realized how incredibly sad it was.

Spike got up from his chair and patted her on the shoulder. "There now, we can be friends if it really means that much to you. We just can't tell people."

That made Anya wonder how things came down before, which was just going to lead her back into a vicious circle. Something had happened though. "I just wish I could remember. Maybe then it wouldn't be so hard. Maybe if I could just be who they want me to be..."

"No," Spike said sharply. "You just be yourself. Changing to please them, that's a dead end."

A guy like him standing in the office, he would probably know something about changing for someone. For Buffy, Anya knew it was for Buffy. And it was years ago, when Anya was still alive, and he had never even been in her apartment until the night before. "Do you regret it?" she asked, still not really knowing how exactly he had changed himself.

It was clear that Spike was surprised by the question. He had not expected her to know enough to ask it. "No, that's not what I meant. Most of the time, I don't. It's just harder this way because I'm still..." He shook his head. "The second I got my soul back I knew that it wasn't going to get me what I wanted, but I would do it again every time." He sighed. "Look, all I was trying to say was that you should just do what you think is right. Don't do what you think he wants, don't try to be what you think he wants. Just be you, and if that's not what he wants, then he's a sodding idiot and it's his loss."

Anya completely passed over the fact that he thought she still wanted Xander, because that didn't really matter right then. What mattered was that he had a soul, that he got a soul for Buffy. It was so familiar; she could almost remember it now. It opened up some questions for her. "Did I become human for him?"

"Which-" Spike stopped himself, leaving that word lingering. "I wouldn't know. I wasn't around for that. I don't think that's how it happened though. I'm no expert on you lot, your former lot, but I'm willing to bet they don't just let you quit because you fall in love."

Anya was not really an expert anymore either, but he had a point. However, it could have happened in a more roundabout way and still have been all about Xander. And then there was that which. She was not going to get any more information out of Spike, not now that his answers had become evasive. "Well, I've had an eventful day, so I'm heading off to bed." She held up the keys and shook them. "Goodbye and thanks for these."

Spike let Anya go off alone without even one perfunctory protest. She figure that meant that he did not know anything about the hit squad that was theoretically still looking for her. But that ignorance of the dangers also meant that he was the only one who was treating her like an adult.

At the apartment, Anya was truly alone for the first time since running into Buffy on the street. She inflated the air mattress and dressed for bed, with nothing to distract her from her thoughts. She lay awake and replayed those few hours it took for Lohesh to destroy everything and everyone in the village. And she knew that was one of the easier ones. She had nothing to do with it; she'd just been there for a shepherd. It would be so much worse when the memories of her own massacres came back.

Eventually, Anya heard a key turning in the lock. She kept her eyes open only long enough to confirm that it was Buffy coming home, and then she feigned sleep to avoid any questions the Slayer might have about the desert. Lying still with her eyes closed, waiting for Buffy to leave the living room, Anya fell into an uneasy, unwanted sleep.

–

Xander did not get the chance to ask Willow about the desert because she was already asleep when he got home that night. This coupled with the fact that they did not really talk about what Anya may have been able to accomplish at the park meant that, other than its existence, he did not know anything about this desperate bid to save Anya's life.

When he woke before Willow, despite going to sleep after her, Xander's patience wore out. After getting dressed, he passive aggressively made a lot of noise to interrupt her sleep. As soon as she opened her eyes, before she even had time to yawn, he said, "I want to know about Anya."

Willow rubbed her face and sat up. "Anya is..." She hesitated for a few moments, thinking of what she wanted to say. "Well, first of all, she's progressing better than I expected. The mark on her head from where the demon hit her is almost completely gone, like faster than normal healing, so I think she did that with magic." She let those hopeful words hang in the air before pulling Xander back down. "But I don't think she's gotten anywhere close to her internal injuries. Not yet. She's unfocused."

Xander considered allowing that to be enough until Willow was more awake, but now that they were talking about it, he needed to know more. "Unfocused how?"

"Like she's just not focusing on it."

Xander understood what the word "unfocused" meant. "I was actually looking for something more specific."

Willow swung her legs around the side of the bed and stood, stretching. "More specifically, there something else going on in her head that's distracting her. She needs to clear her mind, and she can't. She tries to hide it from me, and she thinks I don't know. But... but she's distracted, and it's a problem. And if she won't talk about it, I can't help her."

Willow went into the bathroom before Xander could respond to that. There seemed to be an obvious solution to Anya's silence. He sat on the bed and waited for Willow to come out. He heard the shower running, but he did not let that deter him. When she finally opened the door, coming out in his robe, Xander continued the conversation as though it had only been a couple minutes rather than a half hour. "Why don't you just ask her what it is?"

Willow sighed while toweling her hair. "Xander, she's remembering things. And the bulk of what she has to remember is not pleasant. I mean, compare the worst thing you ever did..." She stopped to think about that. "Which is what, anyway? Eat a raw pig?"

When he thought back on the days of his hyena possession, he did not even consider eating the school mascot to be the worst thing he did then. He did not like the way she was trying to diminish his own personal demons, like he should have to apologize because he never killed anyone. So. while the hyena thing was one of his more haunting memories, he tried to come up with something more than the pig and assaulting Buffy and being mean to Willow. "I summoned the musical demon. People died in that."

Willow nodded. "Okay, good. I forgot about that, the spontaneous combusting. But apparently you haven't. So think about how you feel about knowing people died..." She hesitated. "Because of you, although, Xander, you didn't... It's a little peripheral. But, then think about how someone with Anya's history is going to feel. Nothing peripheral about it."

Xander shook his head. "It's never bothered her."

Willow shrugged. "That was then. It's bothering her now. Or maybe I'm wrong about what's distracting her. But I don't think asking is going to help. She just needs time to work through things."

There was that word again. Time. He did not think that he had to hide his frustration with that word anymore. "You're the one who said that she doesn't have time."

"I did say that," she conceded. "But these things have their own timetable. We can't force her to get over it before she's ready. We just have to hope that she has enough time to do both."

"Hope? You want me to _hope_ that-" As soon as he recognized the anger rising in his chest, he realized that he was not angry at Willow. None of this was her fault. He could not even be angry at Erica or Calreg. Although it was unintentional, they did everything they could to bring Anya back. There was no one to be angry with, and that was the hardest thing of all. This was already more than he deserved. Anya already had a thousand years, they had no right to demand that she be given more time. His anger departed as quickly as it had come. leaving him feeling defeated. "I don't know how I can go through this again. At least the first time, I didn't know it was coming."

As soon as he said those words, he knew that was the point. Her dying again was part of the vengeance. It was the only part that really was vengeance. Buffy had brought that up days before, and he refused to accept it then. He shrugged off the sympathetic hand Willow had place on his shoulder, shaking his head. He still refused to accept it. "Get dressed," he said. "We're going to Buffy's."

–

In falling asleep, Anya had been afraid that she would wake to another flooding of memories, this time of people she killed. However, when she opened her eyes, anything she might have dreamed had faded, and she was left with nothing specific. There was just a vague sense that it was time to remember, like a mantra repeating in her head.

She took a couple deep breaths, thinking that it might even be worse to have it hanging over her head like this. As though to prove that she was wrong, she saw a man burst into flames before her eyes. Then she saw the house catch fire, and it spread. What do you know? Lohesh was not the only one who could destroy a village. Not that this was anywhere near as horrible as that day in the Koskov Valley, but she remembered the fear in the wisher's eyes, the horror as she watched everything she knew go up in smoke. Sure, the man was an abusive, drunken cheater, but what about everyone else there?

She knew Buffy was out, in the kitchen or something. So with a few more deep calming breaths, she pulled herself together long enough to dart into the bathroom. That was something she was getting good at, these short bursts of denial. In the bathroom, with the shower running, she could let her breathing get more ragged. She wondered why she was so determined to keep this to herself, and it came back to her, what Buffy had said about Willow and Xander. _They don't know; they've never died._ This was the same thing. This was not something she could share with humans. But then again, she had a vampire offering to be her friend, and she knew that she was not going to talk to him about it either.

After her shower, to keep Buffy off her back, Anya pretended to meditate. She claimed that she had mastered the way things were connected and that she could access the earth's energy on the third floor, just like Willow. She tried; it turned out she was lying, but Buffy would not know that. So she let the wishes come back to her, slowly, because it was time. Some weren't really that bad at all, and she started with them, with what she could handle.

After about an hour, the others showed up. Xander insisted that they needed to talk. That was fine; fake meditating was getting old anyway. She stayed in her cross legged position on the couch and waited for him to say something, but he just paced for a couple minutes as though he could not figure out where to start.

Finally, he turned to her and said, "I know what you've done."

This was possibly the most confusing thing he could have said. "What?"

He sighed. "Willow says you're distracted, and you're not healing the way you should. So when I tell you to get over it, I want you know that I know what you've done. Probably not all of it, but you were never shy with the stories. So I know. But you have to put all of that aside. You'll have plenty of time to deal with it after you've healed yourself."

While he was talking, another memory was triggered. _Would that be along the lines of you telling me about all the men you destroyed back in your demon days? Cause pencil me in._ He was sarcastic, dismissive. They were in that same classroom from her first memory of him. So Xander did not like her much then either. That was interesting. She did not mention it, just like the last one. That would just get them sidetracked in him trying to tell her how and why that all changed, and she did not want to hear it. She went back to what he was actually saying in the present. "I'm trying. Don't you think I've been trying to put it aside? I don't know how."

Buffy and Willow must have sensed that this conversation was between Xander and Anya alone, because they faded into the background. In reality, Willow should have been the one with the answers, but this was not about the technical aspects of the magic. Anya continued in the face of Xander's silence. "You say you know what I did, but you don't see it every time you close your eyes. Clearing my mind just makes room for it. So tell me how to put it aside."

He pushed on one of her legs, forcing her to make room for him to sit. "You know I can't do that, but... Anya, there's evil inside you. Someone else's evil, and it's trying to kill you. But you're stronger than that. She's a baby demon, less than five years' experience, and you are stronger. So when you close your eyes and clear your mind, that's what you need to tell yourself."

Something occurred to Anya then. The night before when she was complaining about not having any friends of her own because they were all Xander's friends, she had not stopped to considered that Xander could be her friend, if she'd let him. She just did not want to let him. He was making an effort to help her save her life. He was not her enemy. So she could tone down the hostility a little.

She thought about the way he had framed her situation. That the demon's evil was inside her, poisoning her, trying to kill her. No one had put it that way before. It probably was not even true. But she could use it. She could try it his way; it was better than anything else she had. "Okay." She looked at Willow, hanging back by the wall. "Let's go to the park and find out how strong I am."

–

In the car on the way home, Anya pulled up her shirt to look at her scar. She was not sure whether she could see any progress or not. She had tried to fight off the memories by telling herself she was stronger, and it had seemed to work. The meditation had been much more exhausting at least. She had spent a bulk of the day lying on her back in the grass recuperating. And now her scar was looking maybe a little less red. The doctor had been needed in L.A. for something, so it would be a couple days before Anya would have anything more official than a sight test.

Dinner that night was fried chicken at Buffy's. Anya was starving from all the work she had done, and she dug in. Right away, something about ripping the meat off the bone had caused a slight unease, but she was too hungry to let herself feel nauseated.

Nobody told Xander that his suggestion had worked. Nobody had to. Anya watched him while he ate, and she could tell that he was trying not to be smug. She decided to let him have this. That would be her concession to whatever they used to share. When he finished his first piece, he licked his fingers. _He started with the fingers._

Anya dropped her thigh. One ex-boyfriend, he cut off the fingers on his left hand. And the sucking... He sucked the raw flesh from the bone. Apparently, that was so tasty that he did not want to waste any more time with the knife, so he bit into his arm, tearing the skin, chewing, swallowing, going back for more. Anya felt her food coming back up. Without saying a word, she covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom.

When she got to the point where there was no food left in her stomach, Anya dry heaved a couple times for good measure. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, not wanting to face the others just yet. She would not even be able to explain until was was able to place the memory. The man had cannibalized himself. Because of a wish. Because Anya made him do it. And she stood there, making sure blood loss would not become an issue as he kept biting off pieces of himself. Eventually, he went back to the knife, because he couldn't contort enough to get to his legs. She finally let him die from exsanguination when one leg was completely gone because she could not bear to watch him tackle the other. That one was even difficult for her at the time. It was one of the hardest ones; she remembered that now.

She looked up at her reflection in the mirror. There were salt tracks down her cheeks. She rubbed them away, telling herself it was an involuntary response to the vomiting. She was not crying for her victim. She corrected herself, he wasn't a victim. The woman was the victim, and Anya was an instrument of justice. She looked at her face, and she tried to believe that.

New tears were forming in her eyes, and Anya reached over to grab some toilet paper. She only meant to dab at the tears, but she ended up rubbing her eyes hard enough to make the rims hurt. She blew her runny nose, which could be just another side effect of her being sick. Now she was splotchy.

She got up to wash it all away in the sink. That one was always difficult, even when she was at the height of her demon-ness. Even when the evil inside her was her own, she'd found that wish horrifying in execution. She remembered that Xander had described the demony stories that way, as horrifying. She glanced back at the door. He knew what she had done. In theory, they all knew. Maybe not this one, but they knew things. So she could tell them, share this, let them help her. But she knew, that was not going to happen.

Eventually, her face was clear of salt, her eyes were a little less bloodshot, and her mouth tasted more of mouthwash than bile. There was no hiding that something bad had come back to her and that she was not handling it well, but she was pretty sure she could rely on them not to push her to talk about it.

When she came out of the bathroom, they all looked at her. She said what she had prepared in the mirror. "It turns out I'm not really hungry. I'm actually really tired, and I was hoping to go to sleep." She managed to keep her voice even, but it took more effort than she anticipated.

She did not really expect sleep to offer her any solace, but it was preferable to having them all staring at her. If the nightmares and memories were inevitable at this point, she would rather be alone with them, and she could not hide in the bathroom for another three hours.

Without questioning it at all, Xander and Willow said good night and left. Then Anya got dressed for bed at an unreasonably early hour, and Buffy retired to her bedroom to leave the living room to Anya. On her air mattress, when she knew she was truly alone again, Anya felt more tears spill from her eyes, running down into her hair and dampening the pillow. It was going to be another long night.

–


	16. Triangle

**Chapter 16—Triangle**

When Anya went to sleep that night, she thought maybe this time would not be so bad. Because after cannibals, how could it get much worse? In a way, she was right. The only memory she regained that came even close to the cannibalism was that of a man's head exploding. However, she had not considered that there might be worse things to remember than just the mere facts of what she had done. There was also the memory of who she had been.

She was standing too close to the man when his head exploded. She remembered the annoyance of picking bits of teeth out of her hair. A man was dead, and back then, the only thing that bothered her were the blood stains. A lot of men were dead in horrible and inventive ways, and she had taken pride in that work. Even when that man cannibalized himself, it bothered her because it was upsetting to watch, not because she felt anything for him. And she had been commended for that work, so it all seemed worth it in the end.

She remembered Crimea. Its importance laid in her rivalry with a fellow vengeance demon. That demon was important in and of herself for other reasons that still were outside the reach of Anya's memory. But in the Crimean War, the other woman was young and new and eager to make her mark on vengeance. It was her first war, and Anya found that kind of cute. At first the competitiveness was only on the other woman's side; Anya was just doing her job. But when the demon started getting praise and recognition, Anya had felt the need to up her game. She thought about how many people died while they tried to prove who was the better demon. None of those people mattered, not at the time.

At several different points in the night, she heard Xander's voice saying, _I look at you, and all I feel is sick. _ There was no context, no scene, just his disgust with her. A couple times it was intercut with him telling her that he knew what she had done, as though to say that was what made him sick. And for all she knew, it was.

She woke up while it was still dark out, which was what happened when you went to bed at eight. She liked being awake even less than being asleep. When she was asleep, they were nightmares, real and inescapable, but just nightmares. Awake, however, those memories were accompanied by feelings. Not feelings about what she did, because the horror and revulsion was present even in the dreams. No, what was unique to being awake was the sudden and sinking knowledge that she was not a good person. This was not just a job for her. It was her life to destroy other people's lives. It was all she had and all she was, and she enjoyed it. She was supposed to be helping people, in theory, but she did not even care when she burned down that woman's village. She never really thought about the fact that the woman who wished her husband's head would explode had a mental breakdown. Sometimes, it was the wishers themselves who ended up dying, and she just considered them all collateral damage.

She tried to go back to sleep, but it was not happening for her. So instead, she lay awake trying to remember more about Xander. Because it was time for that as well. Everything she remembered, which admittedly was not much, pointed away from them even liking each other. No, it pointed away from him even liking her. She remembered standing in a courtyard and him telling her that he couldn't date her because she used to be a "man-killing demon." Was that when he told her she made him sick? The memories of him were so frustratingly slow and fragmented. They were not even full memories, just sentences really. Eventually, she turned on the television to distract herself from herself.

When the appropriate hour rolled around, Anya knew that Willow and Xander would show up. After all, there was still more meditating to do. She thought about asking Buffy to call and tell them that she was not up for it, but she knew where that would lead, to Xander getting upset with her for not trying hard enough. Which she did not understand. She really had trouble with how her memories of him fit in with everyone else's concept of who they were.

Right up until the moment they did arrive, Anya was still considering blowing off her healing. But then she saw Xander, and she heard it again. _All I feel is sick._ She did not like seeing herself through his eye. She did not like the way she was forced to wonder what he was thinking when he looked at her, what he was thinking when he left her, because that was all kind of coming into focus, not in a memory way but in a piecing things together way. So she went with Willow just to get away from Xander. Plus, she was pretty sure she still wanted to live.

–

Something happened during the day while she and Willow were gone, something big and demony. It was something Buffy needed to take care of that night, and she needed Willow's help. So that left Anya with one option for babysitter. She suggested Spike as an alternative, but of course he was going too. So then Anya put forth the idea that maybe she didn't need to be watched, since there had not even been an attack since that first night. That was Friday, it was now Tuesday, nothing was happening. Buffy asked if she really wanted to take that chance, and Anya was forced to say no.

Still, she was not going to sit in the apartment alone with Xander, so she suggested they go to the facility where there were actual people who could help. They sat at a table in the front room, not talking. Several times, she almost got up the courage to ask about their alleged relationship. Even with everything everyone had said, she still had trouble accepting that they were together in that way when her memories painted such a different picture. Alone, he could tell her the truth, that no one else knew what they were talking about because she had always disgusted him. She stopped herself every time; she was not ready to hear him say it in real time.

At one point, Xander went off to get something or do something. Anya was not paying attention to what he said. She sat alone and decided that when he came back, she would at least look at him and see if any memories came back. While he was still gone, the door to the facility opened and a mildly pretty woman came in. Anya knew that there were dozens of Slayers living in the building and that she had only met three or four of them, but she was wary of this woman.

Upon making eye contact with Anya, the woman became a little wary too. "Um, I was just looking for Xander, but..."

"He's here." Anya turned back in the direction he had walked off in. "Xander! There's someone to see you."

The woman tried to stop her. "No, you don't—" She realized it was too late. "I don't think this is a good—"

She stopped when Xander came into the room. They stared at each other for a while, and there was an awkward energy in the room. Finally, Xander said something. "Right, I was going to explain about..."

The woman nodded. "It's just, you didn't call, and you weren't at your apartment, so I thought I'd... I probably shouldn't have just shown up like this." She looked over at Anya. "So that's her. She's even prettier than her picture."

Xander seemed to notice just then that Anya was still sitting there. "Oh, yeah, that's—Anya, this is Erica. She's my... She's the wisher."

When Anya first heard that she was back because of vengeance, she had no idea what that meant, and then she just did not think about it again. But now she knew how vengeance demons worked, and she thought about about what she had been told. This woman made a wish because Xander was really mean when he broke up with his girlfriend. This Erica was Xander's girlfriend. Anya was not really sure how she should feel about that. "So you guys broke up really recently." They must have. Anya had never really stopped to think about any of this.

Erica shifted on the balls of her feet. "Actually, we didn't break up. Not... yet."

Anya thought maybe she was beginning to understand the weird vibe in the air. Since Xander seemed at a loss for what to say, Anya spoke up. "We haven't done anything. At all. I mean, he is all yours if you want him."

Xander sighed and then chose to ignore her. "Maybe we didn't say the words, but... You sought vengeance against me. That's a pretty definitive ending."

"I've seen couples work it out." Anya reflected on that. "Not many. One or two though."

"Anya," he said with exasperation. "That's not..." He waved that away and turned back to Erica. "Look, I don't want to hurt you."

He kept talking, but Anya got thrown into a memory. In her mind, in a flash, Xander let go of her hands. She held them up in front of her now. It hurt. It hurt in a soul-crushing , hollowing out her chest, curl up in a ball kind of way. He was not even touching her, but he was hurting her more than she could ever remember being hurt before. She had to get out of there.

Without saying a word to either of them, Anya got up and walked out of the room. In the hall, she examined her hands again. He was wearing a tuxedo; she had on a white dress. She needed the rest of that memory, but nothing more was forthcoming. She slid down the wall and sat right there on the floor. At least now she knew the relationship was real. Up to a certain point anyway, until he could not do it anymore because looking at her made him sick.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, and placing her elbows on her thighs, she hid her head in her hands until Andrew eventually found her there. He sat next to her, which caused Anya to look up. He patted her on the shoulder. "I heard you've been having some trouble with the memories of killing people. I know what that's like."

Anya gave the strange man a side-eyed glance. It was not the killing that was bothering her. It was not even the blasé attitude she'd had about it at the time. No, right then, it was just Xander. But she did not want to tell him that. "You killed someone?"

He nodded solemnly. "I was under the influence of the first evil at the time. Also, I was a supervillain back then. I needed blood for something—doesn't matter what—and I stabbed and killed my best friend."

Looking at him, the story was a little hard to believe, but he was so serious. Besides, even if it was true and he killed one person in his quest to be a "supervillain," it was not the same as what she had done in her life. Still, he seemed like a nice enough kid, so she said, "That is pretty villainous."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She realized that no one had asked her that. She had not wanted them to, and she understood that they were respecting boundaries in a way that Andrew was not, but it was still nice to be asked. "Not really, but thanks." She let a beat pass while she thought about something she did kind of want to talk about. "What do you know about Xander's girlfriend?"

–

Anya left while Xander was trying to find a way to break up with Erica, which was probably for the best. With her gone, he felt that he could be more candid. "It's not just because she's back. She doesn't even want me, as you heard. It was just time for us to—"

Erica took the seat Anya had just abdicated. "I know. I don't why I said that. I guess I was just upset that you were here with her and that you didn't call, and... And that you don't care. I thought we were..." She trailed off shaking her head.

He glanced down the hallway to see where Anya was, but she had turned the corner. He sat across from Erica. "I do care about you. And I know that I said some harsh things that night. Of course, you did too. But, and I know this is going to sound trite, but I was actually trying to protect you. From the demons and vampires and all that. You don't belong in my world."

She laughed. "Oh, that's awesome, Xander," she said sarcastically. "I never cared what your world was. I don't belong in the world of underage prostitution either, but I was willing to go with it. I—I love you, and you..." She decided to go in a different direction. "Your demon friend came to visit me a few nights ago."

Xander bypassed the part where it sounded like she really believed at one point that he was involved in underage prostitution because he was not sure who she was talking about. It couldn't have been Anya; she didn't even know about Erica. "What demon friend?"

"Your—Or I guess she was kinda my demon friend. The one from the bar, Cala-whatever. She came to my apartment that night to explain things to me. And she said some things, so I waited for you, but you never called. Too busy trying to woo back a mass murderer, I guess."

Maybe part of the reason Xander had not called was that he was not really looking forward to the crazy, but the truth was that he had kind of forgotten about Erica. And now she was getting all her information from a demon with ambiguous motives. He noticed then that she was wearing a cross necklace he had never seen her in before. "What did Calreg say to you?"

"That Anya killed people, including but probably not limited to about a dozen boys at that infamous frat house. Is that your fairy tale? Stopping the Slayer from doing her job so that your killer girlfriend can continue murdering frat boys?"

"So she told you quite a bit." Xander thought about how to respond while he wondered what Calreg's game was. "That's not really a full picture, but the rest of it doesn't matter. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let Buffy kill the woman I love just because she—" He knew how it would sound now if he said that Anya made a mistake. "She fixed it, okay. Those frat boys are alive now. Or they were last I heard."

Erica cupped her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes. "God, maybe you're right. Maybe I don't belong in your world, because where I come from, when people die, that means something." She looked at him again. "How did you really lose your eye? Or get that cut on your stomach?"

Xander pointed to his eye. "Supernaturally evil preacher trying to make a point." Then he gestured at his stomach. That one was harder to explain. "Crazy demon lady's idea of a good first date. Not Anya, though."

"Another... Wow, so I was never really your type," she mused. "Also, you made me feel like I was the crazy one. I never stabbed you."

In his defense, Erica was definitely crazy. "You threw away Anya's picture because you were jealous of a dead woman."

Erica looked pointedly at the hall. "Yeah, no idea what I was thinking there. And I didn't throw it away. I just hid it to see how long it would take you to notice. It's in one of your comic books. I don't remember which one."

Xander had never liked how easily she could flip back to being sane and make him feel like he was being unfair to her. "Look, I get that you need closure; I just don't know what good fighting is going to do at this point."

She sighed. "I don't really want to fight either. It's just... Why am I the only one here who needs closure? Don't answer that. I just wish that I mattered to you. I mean, I just want you to tell me that if I had waited and not inadvertently resurrected your long lost love that there might have been a chance for us."

Xander did not see how that was going to help either, and he was not sure if she wanted him to say it or to really mean it. Either way, he did not want to lie to her anymore. "I was never really available. You once said something about how if I didn't marry Anya, you should have known that I was never going to marry you. And when you said it, I knew you were right, that I was never going to marry anyone else because it wouldn't be fair to her. To Anya's memory. Since I didn't marry her, since I walked out on our wedding, I couldn't stand there and go through with it with someone else. So no matter how patient you were, we were never going to be more than what we were."

She looked so dejected, and Xander realized that he had not told her any of the things she wanted to hear. "But that's not you," he continued. "It's me. I was only capable of going up to a certain point in the relationship because I was always going to be hung up on a dead woman. You deserve to find the guy who's going to feel that way about you."

Erica shook her head. "Yeah, that sounds nice and all, but it's not what I'm looking for. You make it sound like men are interchangeable, like how I feel about you doesn't matter. I don't want the guy who's going to feel that way. I want you to be the guy."

Xander was at a loss for words. "But I'm not." Trying to talk her through the end, Xander realized he had never done this before. "I suck at break-ups. My first girlfriend, in high school, I cheated on her and she almost died. Anya, you know, I bailed on our wedding. Chloe, we dated in Africa, left the continent. So I don't know how to do this. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I don't know how to be anything but honest with you."

"No, you're doing fine," she said in a reluctant tone. "There's not really any way to make it okay." She smiled. "You're not making me want to leave the continent though, so better than last time I guess." She stood, ready to go. "I mean, you had an eye patch; I should have known you'd be trouble."

Xander was sure that this was not the right time, but he might not get another chance to ask. "Who told you that I left her at the altar?"

She picked up her purse from the floor. "Your dad. It was when they were down for Memorial Day. He, uh, he drank a little too much and he said something about how if we get married, we better elope because he's not paying for you to not show up to another wedding. I guess I didn't know for sure until you didn't deny it though."

Xander should have realized. He never really worried about his parents because they did not know much. And they were in Bakersfield now, far enough away that he did not have to see them unless he wanted to. It made them much easier to avoid on holidays. Except this May, when his mother insisted on coming to San Diego. And when he thought about it now, by bringing up the idea of marriage, they might have set off the whole crazy chain of events that led to Anya being back. "This might be awkward, but thank you for giving me this second chance with her."

She smiled in a way that said it was very awkward for her. "Well, I just want you to be happy. But she kills people, so you know, be careful."

"She doesn't really do that anymore, not since that day." It really hit him that she was going to leave then. She was still his accountant and they had things at each other's apartments, so he would have to see her at least a couple more times before they could really sever the ties, but this was the end right here. Their relationship had gone past its expiration date, probably a year before, but he had really liked her, and now it was over. He realized there was something he had forgotten to say. "You mattered. I mean, it wasn't just... It was a real relationship for me. I hope you still know that."

Erica looked to be on the verge of tears, but she still had a smile on her face. She swallowed, blinking hard and nodded. "I know."

Just then, Buffy, Spike, and the others came through the door. Xander did not feel that he wanted to end things on that note, so he said, "Hey, you want to meet a vampire?"

She glanced at the approaching group. "Um, I don't know."

"It's fine." He took Spike's arm and pulled him over to Erica. "This is Spike. Now, most vampires are very dangerous, but not Spike because he's been neutered. He's pretty much harmless now." Spike tried to pull away, but Xander held on tightly. "Show her your vamp face."

"No. It's not some parlor trick you can pull out to impress girls." He looked Erica up and down. "Who is this bird anyway?"

Xander did not like the way Spike was looking at her. It brought back unpleasant associations. "This is my ex-girlfriend, Erica." He lowered his voice. "And if you touch her in _any_ way, I'll try to stake you again, and I'll make sure you stay dead this time."

Spike scoffed. "Buffy wouldn't let you—"

"Yeah, hide behind Buffy. That's a good move."

Spike rolled his eyes and gave Erica his best vamp face. At the transformation, she gasped with delight. "That's horrifying."

Xander let go of Spike, who promptly wandered off. "You see that face," Xander said. "You burn them with your cross and run."

He walked her out to her car, determined not to make her cry this time. They said a really nice goodbye to each other. Then Erica got into her car and drove off. Xander stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes thinking about Erica and about Anya and about what would come next.

As soon as he walked back through the door, Buffy confronted him. "You can't kill Spike. He has a soul."

Xander almost laughed at the fact that Spike had ran and complained to Buffy. "I don't care. He sleeps with my ex-girlfriend, I'm going to stake him." He caught Willow's eye. "Hey, I'm heading home. You want a ride?"

She walked over. "Sure, but don't you want to tell Anya you're leaving first?"

It seemed wrong to go straight to Anya after breaking up with Erica, which was exactly what he had done on Friday night. He needed to take some time that was just about Erica. "No, she'll be fine; she's got Buffy. Let's go."

–

–

**Author's Note:** I think Spike might be officially my favorite person to write around in this universe. I wish there was a way to have him in every scene. Xander means that Spike's neutered by having a soul; he knows (and I know) that the chip is gone.


	17. Nightmares

**Author's Note:** Because chapter breaks are highly influenced by the titles, chapters will vary wildly in length (as you may have noticed). This chapter, for example, is a little short. And while Anya is reliving things to a certain extent, and while she remembers things really well, they are still just memories. Like most people, she has some atrophy to her memory that keeps her from remembering every word verbatim.

–

–

**Chapter 17—Nightmares**

Sitting on the floor leaning against the wall was starting to become painful for Anya, but Andrew just kept talking. He told her what he knew about Erica, which was not much at all, and went on to regale her with the story of when some Warren guy killed a girl and Andrew helped cover it up. Apparently this was also part of his claim to supervillainy. This triggered no memories of the "trio," but other, older memories came back to her. "So if that makes you a supervillain, what does it make me? I did a lot more than frame someone for murder."

"Not just someone," Andrew protested. "We framed the Slayer."

"I made a guy eat himself." She realized that she had not said that to another person yet. It kind of felt good to put it out there. "Have you ever watched someone eat themself?"

"No, that sounds horrible."

"Oh, it was." She rested her head against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "I think I might have started the Russian Revolution too. Which makes sense because wars were always good to me."

"Oh, I loved wars." Anya turned her head to see Spike coming down the hall. "All those dying people. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. I killed my first Slayer in the Boxer Rebellion," he said, shaking his head nostalgically.

Andrew perked up a little when he saw Spike. Anya was struck by the thought that five years later, he had barely changed at all. It was strange to feel that way about someone she hardly knew, but it was comforting to know that some things were still the same, even if she did not actually remember the way things were. "I'm pretty sure I've killed a lot more people than you," she said up to Spike.

"Well, yeah, if you're going to take credit for a whole revolution. Mine was more of a one on one deal."

He towered over her, but neither that nor her discomfort motivated Anya to stand. "Did you ever make someone cannibalize himself? Or herself?"

Spike's eyes widened for just a second before he affected a cavalier tone. "Nah, what would that accomplish for me? Besides I was practically a cannibal myself." Spike squatted down to give her a more sympathetic ear. "Is that what it is then? That the memory that sent you into this little tailspin?"

Apparently, Buffy was going around telling everyone that she could not handle the memories. But thinking about that just reminded her that the killing was not what drove her to seek refuge in this hallway tonight. She looked from his face to her hands resting atop her knees. She stared for a moment at the third finger on her left hand, and she could almost feel the engagement ring on it, the weight of broken promises. It was so strange because she still did not even like Xander, and she had always known that he left her at the altar. There was no reason for it to be hitting her this hard.

She forced her eyes back up to meet Spike's. "It's just a lot of stuff all at once. I think I'm coping with it pretty well, overall."

Spike nodded and stood. "You could be doing worse."

He did worse. Anya did not remember exactly what he was like; she just knew that he was a lot worse off when he got his soul. Something about a basement. Somehow, it made her feel better to know that she was dealing with it more healthily than Spike had, considering that she had killed more people over a longer stretch of time and in novel and inventive ways that had nothing to do with sustenance. She held out her hands for Spike to help her up, and he did.

She thanked Andrew for sitting with her and headed back to the front room. She could not avoid Xander forever, mostly because he would not let her. However, when she got out there, Xander was nowhere to be seen.

Buffy came up to her. "Are you ready to head back to the apartment?"

"Yeah." Anya looked around the room. "But shouldn't I tell Xander first?"

"Oh, um, Xander left."

Anya had kind of been expecting that, partly because Buffy had an expression that suggested she had bad news. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit that he would leave without saying anything. She told herself it was just that she did not know what had happened with this Erica person, but that was an incomplete explanation since he was supposed to be all Erica's if she wanted him. So she came up with an alternative to give Buffy. "I thought he was supposed to be protecting me."

Buffy shrugged. "I think he thought you would be okay now that I was here. In fact, it was Willow." Now she was covering valiantly for him. "Willow was tired, and she was the one who wanted to go. And he just didn't think that you would mind."

"I don't." She just had to hope that sounded convincing. "Let's go."

–

Anya's dream that night started with Xander. They were in a shop, and he was standing too close to her, reading over her shoulder, and it was bothering her. She said something about it, and they discussed the translation, but he was still bothering her. He was bothering her just by being in the same room as her. Some kid said something about the text, and Anya recognized Andrew in the background.

Then she was standing in a bedroom, and Andrew was telling her something about a seal, something very important. Suddenly, an arm shot out of the wall and grabbed him around the chest. Then another arm grabbed his head, and he was yanked into the next room, the wall providing no obstacle to his attacker. Even with the ridiculously distinctive hair, it took a few moments for Anya to recognize that a vamp faced Spike was biting into Andrew's neck. She and Xander ran for the door to come to his aid.

The scene changed again. They were in a bar. Spike told her that he was a demon just like her, but when she looked at him, she could see him. She could see the soul, and she wanted to know how he did it. He tried to pull away from her and told her to shut up. She knew that she was crossing a line, but it seemed crucial that she know how he was able to do it, so she asked again. He punched her in the face this time, sending her to the ground. When she was down, he came up behind her and hit her again. She knew that she fought back, but that scene faded before it happened.

She was back in the shop. Willow had arrived, and that was bad. She was different, black hair and veins. Anya slipped behind a curtain and began to chant a protection spell. As the memory went on, she began to understand that she needed to protect the others from Willow. Xander ran past her with Andrew, his friend, and someone she recognized as Dawn from the pictures in Buffy's apartment. Xander wanted her to go with him, but she had to stay. It was the only way to keep them safe. Even when they were gone, the fighting continued. She could hear Willow and Buffy talking, but she was too focused on her chanting to listen to their words. There was just the sound of things crashing behind her.

And then Willow flew through the air and landed at Anya's feet. "Well, hey, isn't that interesting?" she said, getting to her feet. "Anya's still here." Buffy came up to intercept Willow, but the witch knocked her aside easily. Willow was going to kill her; she never even liked her anyway, and if she was beating on Buffy, what chance did Anya have? Still, Anya kept chanting because it was all she had. Willow pushed her up the wall, holding her by her throat. Anya called for help, but Buffy was in no condition to give it. Willow threw her into a bookshelf and everything went black.

There was a short break from the influx of memories, a blackness that gave her a chance to regroup. When the new scene started, she instinctively knew it was going to be the worst one of the night. They were in a large, open living room of sorts. Buffy had a sword. Xander was standing between them. She had understood that she was never really Willow's target, and when Spike hit her, she knew she had provoked him. But Buffy wanted to kill her and her alone.

From the external perspective of remembering the incident, she could not make out Xander's role in this. All she knew was that he was in the way, so she knocked him aside. Buffy advanced with her sword.

And then that scene faded into another. Her dreams were usually not like this. It was disorienting and scary. She stood before Xander in a wedding dress. He was holding her hands, but she knew he was slipping away. She begged him to let them start over. He looked behind her and told that they couldn't. "If this is a mistake, it's forever." She knew what was coming, he would tell her that he did not want to hurt her and then he would let go. But it did not happen. Instead she was back in that room with Buffy.

In the fight, Anya did well for herself. She was even winning at one point. Then Buffy apologized and ran the sword into her chest. Once again, everything went black.

She came to in the back room of her shop. This was the first time she had stopped to realize that it was _her_ shop. She knew there was a missing part, something between the bookshelf and the back room. But this piece of the memory had nothing to do with what Willow had done to her physically. This was about the shop. She walked out onto the sales floor and saw that it had been destroyed. The door she went through came off its hinges, beams had fallen from the ceiling, one of the walls was punched with a hole you could drive a car through. There were remnants of a fire. Without Xander, Anya had one thing left that mattered to her, and Willow had taken it. She knew now what she could only assume then; there would be no rebuilding. She saw her partner lying unconscious on the floor and she ran to him. He told her he was dying and that it was the only way. And now Willow was going to end the world.

The sword through the chest was not the end. She already knew that. She had remembered her actual death, and that was not it. It was not enough for Buffy either. She had made her point in pinning Anya to the wall, but no, she really wanted to kill her. Friendship was no longer an issue. Anya pulled the sword from her chest and wielded it. Buffy knocked her off balance with a stool and then kicked her to the ground, getting the sword in the process. She stood over Anya, ready to bring it down again.

She woke to nearly the same image, Buffy standing above her, looking down. It became too real, and Anya reflexively gave a small cry of alarm.

"Shh, it's okay," Buffy said. "You were just having a nightmare."

It was not just a nightmare though. It was real, and it was fairly recent. Anya scooted away from Buffy on the mattress. She did not know how she was supposed to deal with this. Buffy, the woman in whose apartment she was staying, tried to kill her, really kill her. Things were most definitely not okay.

–

–

**Author's Note: **Just because those dreams might be a little too disjointed, the episodes I used are (in order): Two to Go, Never Leave Me, Beneath You, Two to Go, Selfless, Hells Bells, Selfless, Villains, Selfless.


	18. Living Conditions

–

**Chapter 18—Living Conditions**

When Xander woke up on Wednesday morning, he realized something. Today was going to be like every other day. There was a frustrating routine to trying to save Anya's life, and there was nothing for him to do but start it over. Get up, go to Buffy's, send Anya off with Willow. He played no real role in any of this.

He nudged Willow out of the bed to take her shower first while he considered not going. He mostly just got in the way, and he was pretty sure Anya would not even care. She had barely said a word to him when they sat there the night before. She clearly had no interest in him at all. She still, as far as he could tell, had not remembered a single thing about him. He knew that she had a long and rich life before him, but he should have been important, memorable. It was not even her fault. It was doomed from the moment the wish was made. It was just getting exhausting for him.

It might have been his conversation with Erica that brought a lot of this into focus for him. When he was forced to tell her how he felt about her and how he felt about Anya, he recognized that, just like Erica, he was in love with someone who was not in love with him.

Even after Willow was dressed and ready to go, he stayed in bed thinking. The phone beside his bed rang, and he answered it, knowing it would be Buffy on the other end. "Hi, Buffy."

"Where are you guys?" she hissed. "Anya locked herself in the bathroom, and she won't talk to me."

It was not as if she had never done that before. "So what do you want us to do?"

"I want _you_ to talk to her," Buffy said as though it was obvious.

Xander was just beginning to accept that he was nothing more to Anya than anyone else, so this was a strange request to him. "Why would she be any more willing to talk to me than to you?"

"Because you're..." Buffy sighed. "You're the only one she ever listens to."

Xander could have refuted that. He could have pointed out how much things had changed since the good old days, but he did not want to get into a bout of self pity, not out loud anyway. So he just said, "Give me a half hour." It couldn't hurt to put Buffy's theory into practice. Or actually, he thought as he swung his legs around the side of the bed, it could end up hurting a lot.

–

Anya was not sure what she was accomplishing by staying shut up in Buffy's bathroom. The longer she stayed in there, the harder it was to think about facing Buffy, who clearly was getting more and more concerned. Eventually Anya got dressed, but she skipped the shower because she did not want to go that long without being about to hear what was going on outside the room.

Everything rang false to her now. Spike at least had been honest in saying that they were never really friends. And she had always known that Buffy and Willow were Xander's friends first, but they had claimed to be hers as well. She thought back to that first day when she had been so skeptical. She should never have let them overcome her sense of doubt.

Buffy had given up trying to get her to come out a while before, but now she knocked again. "Go away," Anya said to the door. "I don't want to talk to you."

There was a pause, and then Xander said, "We just want to know what's going on with you."

Anya got up from her seat on the side of the tub. Xander was here. She took a step toward the door, thinking about it. "I'll talk to Xander."

"Really?" He sounded surprised. "Okay."

She unlocked the door and opened it a crack to see what the situation was out there. Willow and Buffy were standing behind him, back a little bit. She waved Xander into the bathroom, and he considerately shut the door behind him. "Lock it," Anya said.

Reaching behind his back, he turned the lock without looking. "Okay, so what's the problem?"

Now that he was in front of her, invading her little sanctuary, she considered him. This was the first time she had seen him since remembering their wedding. A few more fragments came back to her now, mostly just feelings of rejection. That was what relationships always led to, pain. She should have known better.

When she did not say anything, Xander grew more concerned. "Are—are you okay?"

Anya took a deep breath. "Buffy tried to kill me," she said in a hushed tone.

"What?" He glanced behind himself. "I find that really hard to believe."

Of course he was going to take her side. He always took their side over Anya's. "It happened." He knew it happened; he was there. "We were in a large house of some sort, and she had a sword, and she actually put it right through my chest."

"Oh." He nodded knowingly. "That was a long time ago. Although I guess not that long for you." He clapped his hands together. "It was a complicated situation."

Anya was sure that was true, but she did not see any way she could be expected to be all right with it. "I can't stay here with her knowing that she tried to kill me, that she almost succeeded."

"Um..." Xander looked back at the door again. He turned back to her and shrugged. "So what do you want to do? You want to move to the facility? I guess I could get a room set up for you if you give me a couple hours."

That option did not appeal to her. "No. No, I don't think the facility is going to work. They are all her people. And I'm an ex-demon, so Slayers are not ideal. And, also, even with a soul, Spike has no control over himself."

Xander's eye went wide. "Did he—What did he do?"

Anya sighed. "Nothing recently." Spike was not really even the point, and she knew she was being a little unfair to him. It had just hit home that he was right, and they were not friends. She was just trying to point out that there were a lot of things about the facility that were problematic. "I don't want to live there."

"Okay."

There was one place left, and he must have realized it, but he was really not going to make the offer. "You know, Willow tried to kill me too." He narrowed his eye at that, questioning. "She had black hair then, and her face was all veiny. She was actually trying kill everyone. I think she wanted to end the world."

"Yeah, I remember that." He reflected on it. "She didn't though. The world's still here, and she's okay now. I mean all of those things, probably even Spike, were very unique situations that are unlikely to ever—"

She did not want to hear him explain. "Did you ever try to kill me?"

He took a deep breath. "No."

She knew that already. She understood now where her memory of the wedding fit into the nightmares of the night before. Those were a litany of the worst things each of them had ever done to her. Leaving her was the worst thing he did. "Did you ever punch me in the face for inquiring about your soul?"

After a long beat he said a begrudging, "No."

"Okay, so maybe the best place for me to go is your place."

"Oh." He got a look on his face that let Anya know that in all their talk about where she could go, that really had not occurred to him. "Are you sure?"

Anya thought back to when she was first told about this engagement thing. She had thought it was absurd that, one, she had been involved with this man, and two, that he would have been the one to end it if they were. The implication there was that back then she had wanted him more than he wanted her. The whole concept still seemed inconceivable to her, but the difference was now she knew it was the truth. And now, he would not even let her stay in his apartment in order to get away from someone who had tried to kill her. "I don't understand you, Xander. You left me, but then you act like you're the injured party. And now when I need your help, you're not sure it's a good idea. What do you want from me?"

He was flustered by this. "I—I don't want anything from you. I just—"

"I'm sure you made that very clear when you left," Anya retorted.

He gave a small nod as he thought about how to respond to that. "Look, you don't really remember what happened between us, so—"

She interrupted again. "So just tell me what happened! Because something made you hate me."

"I didn't—Wow, Anya I didn't hate you." His face grew sad and concerned. "I never hated you."

She wondered if he was lying or if he just did not remember that there was a time when he looked at her and all he felt was sick. She could confront him with it, but she still wanted to hold the memories back just a little bit longer, just to hear what he would say when he thought he had complete control of the story. "You left me, and now you won't let me stay at your place."

"I never said—" He closed the toilet seat lid and sat down, taking some time to think. "You don't know what it's like. Because I never hated you; I loved you the whole time. And we were working things out. I mean, right there at the end, I thought we were getting back together. I don't know how you felt about it, because there was so much going on then, and there wasn't time to talk about it. But I really believed that when it was over, we would be together. And I still have all these feelings for you, and you feel _nothing_ for me."

Anya was not able to think of anything that would confirm or deny that they were working things out. "That's what you want from me though. You want me to remember that."

He shrugged. " I want you to be safe. I want you to live. The rest of it? It's not that important anymore."

She realized that even that was five years ago for him. Even if he loved her to the day she died, he had obviously moved on. Whether they were working things out five years before didn't matter that much anymore. "You know, I wasn't thinking. Is you not letting me stay with you because of your girlfriend?"

He sighed like he found her frustrating. It was familiar. "No, that's over. Erica and I are not together anymore. And I'll let you stay at my place. I didn't say that I wouldn't. I was just surprised that you would want to."

She had gone through the trouble to set up the logical progression of it. It was like he was not even listening. "I explained why it's better. Because even if you were a bad boyfriend, you've never tried to kill me. Which is a big plus in my book right now. And I think you can keep me safe."

"Really?" He laughed sarcastically. "Because just last night you said we had to go to the facility because I couldn't protect you."

She had really said that because she did not want to be left alone with him. She was still not thrilled about the idea of being alone with him, but it was better than the alternatives. "Well, I changed my mind. So it's settled, right? I'll go to your apartment, and Willow will stay here. Let's go."

Xander stayed seated. "Right now? Don't you have to do your... magic healing exercises with Willow? Because that is very important."

Yeah, he definitely was not listening to her. "Willow tried to kill me. She destroyed my shop, and she-"

He interrupted her before she could even get to what happened to her business partner. "If you don't do these exercises, you could die. No, if you don't do them, it's almost a certainty that you will die. The way I understand it, those exercises are the only things that might possibly keep you alive. So you want move into my apartment to get away from Buffy? Fine. You want to call me a bad boyfriend based on nothing? I can deal with that. But, no matter what Willow's done, you cannot stop your healing."

Anya was a little taken aback by his speech. "I know. I didn't go through all of this just to give up on life now." That was especially true of all these painful memories; they would be useless to her if she was just going to die in the next few weeks. In that case, it would have been much better to go on blindly believing all the sugary crap she had been told. "I don't think I need Willow anymore though. You could take me instead of sending me off alone with someone so unstable."

She watched him mentally debate whether to get into a discussion about Willow's stability with her. He decided against it. "Okay, if you're sure." He stood and unlocked the door. "I'm going to talk to the girls. Are you ready to come out of the bathroom?"

Anya thought about it and decided she would rather if Xander explained to his friends without her presence. She shook her head. "No."

His slight smile suggested that he had been anticipating that response. "All right. Then wait here, and I'll get it set up." With that, he slipped through the door, leaving Anya alone in the bathroom once again.

She listened at the door as Buffy asked what was going on. "She remembered that time you tried to kill her," Xander responded. "And that time you destroyed the Magic Box and tried to end the world."

Anya heard Buffy and Willow beginning to protest and Xander cutting them off to explain the solution. Willow renewed her objection to being remembered as a psychotic dark witch, but this time Buffy stopped her. "I think she should go with Xander. I mean, if she wants to, that's good, right?"

Xander answered in the affirmative, but he did not sound very convincing. Anya moved away from the door. The arrangements were set; that was all she needed to know.

–


	19. Tough Love

**Chapter 19—Tough Love**

Even though it was by no means a long drive from Buffy's apartment to Xander's, it was still a little awkward that Anya did not say one word to him the entire time they were in the car. At least she sat in the front seat this time.

Xander used the quiet ride to reflect on these memories that Anya had gotten back. He was part of every one of them. He was in that house with her and Buffy. He was at the Magic Box, not the whole time but for some of it. And he was pretty sure he remembered a time in the Bronze when Spike punched Anya. He could not be sure that was the only time it happened, but it fit with what she said. He wanted to ask her if he was really nowhere in her memory, but he kept putting it off, and the awkward silence grew too big to break up.

When he pulled into his parking space, Anya immediately jumped out and waited by the trunk. Xander got out of the car much more slowly because he could not imagine this was going to go well. They had pretty much been living together during their engagement, and having that experience would make this seem like a distorted perversion of what they should have been. When he got to the trunk, Anya pulled out the overnight bag of Buffy's clothes, and Xander picked up the air mattress.

He led the way up the stairs, still not talking. Once they were inside and he had dumped the mattress onto the couch, he knew he had to say something to her. "I'd give you a tour, but there isn't much to see. Living room, kitchen." He pointed over in that direction. "The bathroom and bedroom are over there. I just need to get Willow's stuff together, and then we can drop it off on our way to the park."

Anya nodded. "Okay." She followed him into the bedroom, which Xander had not been expecting. "So you and Willow were sharing this bed?"

He reacted to the implication without thinking. "No." It was obviously a lie. "I mean, yes, but not like—You know Willow's gay, right?"

She walked the length of the bed, running her hand along the comforter. "That didn't stop you guys from cheating on..." She paused, seeming just as surprised to hear herself saying the words as he was. She turned to face him. "Cordelia. That's why I was in high school, because you cheated on Cordelia."

That was not exactly the kind of thing he wanted her to remember about him, but he could not afford to be too picky. "You remembered something."

Anya sat down on the bed and spread her hands out on either side of her. She had a far off look on her face. "I remember lying in a bed with you and feeling so sad because I knew it was really over." She looked up at his face. "We weren't getting back together, Xander, because nothing had changed. You still thought that leaving me was the right thing to do."

Maybe he should have brought her to his apartment sooner. The bed, it had to be the cot in Buffy's basement, but any bed would not be the end of the story. Things changed in the kitchen. He couldn't force her to remember that though. At the moment, she was doing a pretty good job of remembering things on her own anyway.

In responding to what she said, he just had to be honest with her. "It was. I was twenty-one when we were going to get married. I was kid, and I was scared. I shouldn't have waited so long to tell you, but marrying you then would have been a mistake."

She got to her feet. "Well, you're not a kid anymore, Xander. So would you marry me now?"

That was a strange question. She was challenging him, but he still did not get the impression that she had any interest in being with him, let alone committing the rest of her life to him. So, he was not sure what she wanted him to say. She took his long pause as an answer. "That's what I thought," she said bitterly.

He could not let himself believe that this could be the moment everything would work out. That way laid madness. But he was going to answer her truthfully, as though none of the vengeance stuff was an issue. Before he did that, he just took a second to remind himself that she was only there because he was the lesser of two evils in her mind. "If you remembered everything, and you wanted me back, but you said the only way that could happen was if I married you? Yeah, in a heartbeat. Something happened between then and now. I lost you. You were dead, and it was supposed to be forever. If I had you back, I would do anything to keep you this time. So, while I think it would be better to take things slower than that, if you said I had to marry you to keep you, I'd say we could be in Vegas in a few hours."

"Oh." He could tell that was both what she did and did not want to hear.

There was a caveat he did not want her to miss. "But you don't remember, so no."

She sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. "You make it sound so wonderful, with your pretty words, like we were so in love, and it was just one hiccup. But that's not how I remember it. I remember you telling me that I made you sick. I remember you never once taking my side against Willow. I remember that you were right there when Buffy tried to kill me. And I remember—I remember that you only proposed because we were going to die, and you knew you wouldn't have to go through with it."

"That's not true!" She had been holding back on him. There was no way she had remembered all of that in the last ten minutes. At least now he could understand why she called him a bad boyfriend. "I knew we were going to live, and we did live."

"But you didn't go through with it." It did not sound like an accusation. She just sounded sad.

She had a point about that. "Okay, that is a little fair, but you're still remembering things wrong. Incomplete. I'm pretty sure I know what you did to—what happened that made me sick. Do you?" Anya shrugged. That meant that she didn't, or she would not blame him for saying it. "Well, it was a momentary reaction anyway. And while nothing leaps readily to mind, I must have taken your side sometimes. I mean you and Willow would fight, but I tried to stay neutral. And as for Buffy, yeah, I was there. I remember that day really well, and it was complicated. I think maybe on some level you even wanted her to kill you, considering other things you said that day. I think you were having trouble living with what you had done."

"What had I done?"

Xander had already said more than he should have, and he considered just finishing the story. Maybe she even already remembered the dead frat boys and she just had not put it together yet. He wanted to be able to clear everything up, make that day whole for her, but it might not end up going that way. It could make things worse. "It's better for you to remember that on your own."

She was not going to let it go at that. "No, Xander, I want you to tell me what I could have possibly done that would make it okay with you for Buffy to _kill_ me."

"I was _never_ okay with..." Xander composed himself. "I could tell you about these things, but it would still just be me telling you more pretty words of how things were. When you remember, then you'll know that I had a definite problem with what Buffy was going to do. And we can talk about it then, but I'm not going to fight with you about things you don't even remember."

He grabbed up Willow's suitcase and did a quick visual sweep of the room to see if there was anything she left unpacked. Not seeing anything, he headed for the bathroom to gather up the toiletries in there. Anya watched him the entire time, her expression inscrutable. When he had everything together, he leaned through the bedroom door and asked if she was ready to go.

She hesitated for a second, biting her lip. "Yeah." She looked around like she was just noticing where she was. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be hanging out in your bedroom."

Xander was worried that he might have been a little too harsh in shutting down the conversation, but it seemed that everything was still pretty much the same between them. She did not even look at all upset. It occurred to him that the discussion was probably more difficult for him than it was for her, and she might even understand that. She gave him a pleasant smile as she left the room, but it was not very warm.

In the car, she said, "You know, you were right before, back in the bathroom. Most of the time, I do feel nothing for you."

Xander couldn't help himself. "And the rest of the time?"

She shrugged and looked out the window.

–

In a lot of ways it was easier for Anya to do her exercises without Willow there. She had mastered the art of drawing healing power from the earth, and she did not really need the witch hovering over her. Xander, who could not possibly help with this, kept his distance. She knew there was a Slayer lurking around somewhere, because in just these few short days she had come to know Xander well enough to know that he would take those kind of precautions. However, since she could not see the covert Slayer, she did not feel as crowded as she was starting to with Willow.

So it would be easier to do the healing, except that Xander had really thrown her with what he said at his apartment that morning. Okay, so he did tell her way back in the bathroom that he still had all these feelings for her and that he thought, if she'd lived, they would be together. But when he said that he would still marry her, if he had to to keep her, it went so far beyond anything she expected him to feel. She was not sure why she even asked him that. It was not as if she had any interest in him in that way at all. There was just something so familiar about him starting up with the excuses again. She wanted to point out what nonsense they were, to get him to admit that he never really wanted to marry her. But he surprised her with his answer, and now, instead of meditating, she was thinking about Xander.

It was difficult for her to believe Xander when he said things like that because the bottom line was that her memories told a different story. But she did not have any evidence that he had lied about anything yet, nor did she know any reason why he would want to. And that bothered her because it meant that she still did not understand Xander Harris.

Keeping her legs crossed, Anya lay back on the grass and basked in the sun. She did not know what to make of this whole situation. She had just moved in with him on the premise that anything they once had was long over, and now it was all complicated again. She turned her head to the side and squinted at where Xander was sitting. She wondered if there was any way she could tell him this would work better for her if he just got over those "feelings" he still had. She remembered now that was the kind of comment that would earn her his exasperated tone. He always found her very frustrating. It was probably why he left. Except he just told her why he left. She found that she did not believe his simple answer. She had never really believed it.

He was pretending to read a newspaper, but he was really watching her watching him. After about ten minutes of this, he set down the paper and walked over to her. "I don't think you're doing your exercises," he said as he stood over her looking down.

Anya covered her eyes with hand and looked straight up. "Is it lunchtime yet?" she asked, completely ignoring his comment. As he looked as his watch, she added, "Keep in mind that I didn't have breakfast."

He dropped his arm and frowned at her. "Did you get any healing done today?"

With a little bit of rocking, Anya was able to push herself up to a sitting position, and Xander took her arm and pulled her to her feet. She brushed off the seat of her pants and started for the car. "Maybe after lunch."

–


	20. Restless

**Author's Note:** This is so like me lately. It's all about me and the college life. More seriously, I don't know why this chapter was so difficult for me to write. At least it's a long one. That makes it worth the wait, right?

–

–

**Chapter 20—Restless**

For lunch, Xander took Anya to a nearby soup and sandwich type restaurant. He figured it was casual enough that nothing about it would feel like or look like a date. Except that he was paying for her meal, which did create a certain implication.

The timing was just right that Xander was able to snag a booth. As they sat down, Anya asked, "So at what point am I going to have to start earning my keep?"

His first thought was that she was speaking euphemistically. "Oh, no, Anya, I don't... There's no strings attached to you staying at my place."

"Okay." She did not seem to have any idea what he was thinking. "But eventually, I am going to have to start working for you guys."

In hindsight, Xander realized that he had made quite an assumptive leap, but considering the context of their situation, he did not think it was entirely unreasonable to think that she was referring to needing to earn her keep in a more intimate sense. "Right," he recovered. "But you don't need to worry any of that until you're all healed."

She regarded him with narrowed eyes. Xander took a sip from his drink to break eye contact, but she kept watching him. She was doing that more and more recently. It was the kind of thing that should seem encouraging at this point, but it was really just unnerving. Eventually, she looked around the restaurant and said, "Do you realize that people stare at you a lot?"

"Yeah, I've noticed," Xander said with a slight smile. He knew she was talking about the double takes he got from the eye patch, which he actually had stopped noticing over the years. He shrugged. "I've gotten used to it though."

She shook her head, thinking. "There has to be something less conspicuous you can do about your eye."

"There is." The truth was he found glass eyes creepy. He preferred to have his eye loss dealt with upfront rather than make it something to be discovered over time. Plus, with that eye socket's history, he was not entirely comfortable sticking things in it. "I like the patch though. Even if I do look sketchy."

She put one elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "I remember when you had two eyes. I liked your eyes."

Xander thought about how to respond to that. He did not want to draw her attention to the fact that she just said she liked something about him for fear of spooking her like a gazelle in the Serengeti. He was saved from having to say anything by the arrival of their food. Anya forgot all about his eyes and went to work breaking up crackers in her soup.

This lull in the conversation allowed him to change the subject. There were two things he needed to talk to her about, and he decided to go with the one that seemed more pressing. He was worried about the fact that she had gotten nothing done over the last few hours. It was one thing to let things take time; it was another to let her waste that time. "Look, Anya, about the healing. Seriously, if you need Willow's help, she is all better now. I promise she won't try to kill you."

"She doesn't even like me," Anya said between slurps.

Xander did not think that was entirely true. "You guys were never super best friends, but I'm sure that she at least kind of liked you." They were getting off the point. "And that's not important anyway. If you need help, she'll do it for me, matter how she feels about you."

Anya shook her head. "I don't need help. That's not what this is."

That meant it was something. He debated whether to push for more information. He was sure that whatever her problem was, it would end up being his fault, and he was not sure he wanted to know how. "I just want you to get better."

"I will," she said, as though it was not something to worry about. Then she grew more pensive. "Or maybe I won't. I've been thinking about this whole vengeance thing."

She could be speaking broadly, about the _whole_ vengeance thing, but Xander thought she probably had some more specific vengeance in mind. "What about it?"

"It's coming back to me. I think I pretty much know how it works now, and 'I wish his ex-fiancée was alive' doesn't really cut it."

He became much more focused on his sandwich. "What's your point?" He knew exactly where this was going, but he was not going to lead her there.

Anya stared at him, her own food forgotten. She could tell that he was avoiding the subject. "My point is, that wasn't the wish. And I figure, going out in that hallway with her, you know more than you're saying."

What was he supposed to tell her? That he was sure the only reason she hated him was because the demon was making her feel that way? It seemed inappropriate. Besides, it was like Buffy asked all those nights before. What happens when the vengeance stops working? "Yeah, I know a little more about the wish, but that's my burden to bear. All that matters for you is that your being alive is part of it. The details don't change that." He leaned in closer as he spoke and lowered his voice because this was approaching dangerous territory.

She followed suit with the lowered volume. "It changes things if the wish was for you to lose me all over again. Because that's kind of the only thing that makes sense anyway. This healing is not going to do anything if my death is preordained."

Xander considered that. It was a possibility he had considered many times over the last few days. He thought back to everything Calreg had said to him, specifically what she said with regard to his ability to save Anya. "But the demon didn't know you were dead. That's the whole problem here. So right now, yeah, you're living at her whim, and that makes your death a little imminent. But if you heal, maybe we can change all that."

He could tell that she did not entirely believe him. And, really, why should she? She had probably noticed the way he maneuvered around the actual question and told her all the same things he always told her. But she let it go all the same. They sat eating in silence for the next few minutes until Xander remembered that there was something else he was supposed to talk to her about. "I also wanted to let you know that Giles is flying in tonight, if you want to see him." She did not respond, so he continued, "But if you don't, that's okay too."

Anya thought about this. Finally, she swallowed her soup and said, "Who's Giles?"

Xander was not sure why he had assumed she would remember him. "Oh, right. He's..." It probably did not really matter what he said. She would either remember Giles or she wouldn't. "He's just another old friend."

"Why wouldn't I want to see him?"

"No, no reason." He could see how what he said might have implied that there was some big bad thing in the past, but he could not think of anything. "I just meant there was no pressure because you've been feeling a little avoidy today. But I don't think Giles ever tried to kill you or anything like that." He really did not want her to think that he was discouraging this. "You should see him."

"Okay." Anya nodded. "Tomorrow."

Xander felt something resembling relief, even though whether or not she saw Giles was not that important to him. "Tomorrow," he repeated. That was probably better. Although Giles's flight was set to arrive just after six p.m. Pacific, it would be the middle of the night on London time. This would give him time to rest.

With that settled, Xander did not have anything else to talk to her about. He thought about trying to make small talk, but the awkwardness kept him from speaking. He no longer had any idea where he stood with her, and it was not something he was interested in exploring at the moment. They finished their lunch without saying much else at all, and he took her back to the park so that she could continue doing exercises that were probably ineffective.

–

The next time Anya sprawled out on the grass, Xander came over to chastise her. She explain that this time was from exhaustion and that it was perfectly normal and that she was doing what he wanted, so he could just leave her alone. He went back to the park bench skeptical, and Anya rested up for another bout of healing.

By sundown, Anya felt that all in all it had been a successful day. And now she had to go back to Xander's apartment and stay in a place with a man who felt things for her that she did not feel back. Still, that was preferable to staying with people who once came very close to making her dead. Something occurred to her in the car, and she asked Xander about it. "Those guys who actually killed me, the ones in the robes, you're not friends with any of them, are you?"

"No," Xander answered with a sigh, like he considered this question to be a personal affront. "Those guys are evil. Literally the minions of the first evil, and we haven't really seen them around since the Hellmouth closed." He paused, and then he clarified, "Not that I would be friendly with them if they were around. Willow just had a problem with magic, and things... converged. She didn't have anything against you personally. And Buffy—"

"Buffy did." There was no question about that. Anya thought about how Xander was there, in the way, in between them. He claimed that he had a problem with what Buffy was there to do, but Anya was the one knocking him out of the way. "Are you sure you and Buffy were never involved?"

"I think I would remember," Xander said with a smile. "Would it, um, would it bother you if we were?"

It really would, but Anya was not going to say that. It was just that it was always Buffy for him. Cordelia had told her that once, how she never even worried about mousy Willow because Xander was so clearly into his other best friend. Anya would hate to think that she was a placeholder. "It would if that's why she tried to kill me."

"Ah." He nodded. "It's not."

They were pulling up to the apartment parking, and Anya decided to let the conversation go. It had gotten away from her intended subject by that point anyway. She followed Xander up the stairs, mentally counting the hours until bedtime. Once they were in his living room, Anya asked him what they normally did in the evenings.

Xander looked at her in a different sort of way than he usually looked at her. He was clearly getting back some memories of his own, but he shook those away. "Um, I don't know. Watch TV, bowl. You liked to bowl."

"I liked to bowl," Anya repeated, trying it on. It had a certain ring to it. "Did I—Did I have a song about that?" She could almost hear a melody, and she tried to hum it. "Good with... math?"

Xander shrugged. "Doesn't sound familiar. But maybe," he added brightly.

Anya spent a few more seconds trying to remember the song, what it was and why she sang it, but nothing more was forthcoming, and she gave up. "Okay, let's watch TV." It seemed as good a way as any to avoid having to talk to him for the next few hours.

They ordered in Chinese food and sat on opposite sides of the couch eating and watching re-runs of shows Anya had never heard of before. When the right hour finally rolled around, Anya gave an exaggerated yawn and reached for the air mattress, which had been pushed to the floor. "I think it's about time for me to go to sleep."

Xander jumped up to help her with the mattress. "Right, I've been thinking about that. I think you should take the bed."

Anya wanted to make sure she was hearing him right. "And you'll sleep out here?"

"Yeah." he nodded. "I just think I'd be more comfortable on the air mattress."

Having slept on that thing for a few nights now, Anya really doubted that would be the case. "Xander, this is your apartment. I can't ask you—"

He cut her off. "You're not asking me. We have this whole history that makes it somewhat of an imperative for me to give you the better sleeping arrangements. And even if you don't remember our history, I do. So just let me do this."

"This is just—" She was going to tell him that it was too much for her and he needed to back off. But she knew that this was him backing off. He had not said anything that morning that she did not push him to say. This might even be the first time he brought up the relationshipy stuff without her bringing it up first. And hell, if this was what he wanted, who was she to argue? "Okay then."

She picked up her bag of clothes and headed for the bedroom to shut Xander out. She tried to close the door, but he stopped it with his foot. "I do need to get a few things though."

Anya reluctantly opened the door for him to enter. "I'm really, really tired," she lied.

He slid past her into the room. "Don't worry," he said sounding a little perturbed by her attitude. "I'll be quick as a—Quick." He pulled some clothes out of a drawer and took a pillow from the bed. Then he went to the top of the closet for a blanket. "If you want to change the sheets, there's a spare set up here."

Anya thanked him, but then he didn't leave, and Anya got restless. There was something about this whole situation, between him and the bed and the being in his apartment at night, that made her feel squirmy and uncomfortable. "So you can go now."

Xander's lips curled up a little at the sides. He was finding her amusing, and that made Anya even more squirmy, like there were tiny bugs crawling under her skin, only not as unpleasant as all that. Xander hid his smile and said, "Yeah, I can go." With that, he finally left her alone.

He closed the door, but she crossed the room to lock it behind him. She surveyed the room now, just as she had done that morning. This was not the room he had when they were together; this wasn't even the right town. This bed probably was not anything that should trigger any memories. But just in case, she avoided it as she undressed for bed.

When she had on her pajamas, Anya tentatively pulled the comforter back. She could change these sheets if she wanted, but that seemed like a lot of unnecessary work. She flipped over the one remaining pillow and decided that was good enough. Still she could not get herself to climb into the bed.

She knew what she was afraid of. It was the same thing she was afraid of every time she went to bed, the memories that might come back to her in her sleep. She did not yet have any actual memories of anything they might have done in beds, but it should not be any scarier than cannibalism, right? She put one knee up on the bed and forced herself to shift her weight onto it. She brought her other leg up and finally laid down. It was just a bed, she told herself as she closed her eyes.

–

When Xander woke in the morning, the mattress had deflated a little and his back was sore. He sat up and stretched. There was not much he could do until Anya came out of his room. He listened for any sign of activity coming from there, and there was definite rustling. It probably would not be much longer.

He lay back and waited. Over the last day or so, he had followed Buffy's advice and taken the time to think about what he still felt for Anya. He probably should have done that before answering whether he would marry her, but it didn't matter because the answer was the same. She was not quite the same Anya he had fallen in love with all those years before, but there was enough of her there for him to know that he never wanted to let her go again. But it was not up to him anymore.

After a while, Anya came out, showered and dressed. She walked over to him. "Did you know that you snore?"

It had been mentioned to him on occasion, at least once by her. He got up from the mattress. "You could hear that all the way in the bedroom?"

"No, I heard it when I came out to take a shower." She ran her hand through her hair. "You still use the same shampoo."

He was not sure if that was meant as a criticism from someone who had always taken hair care so seriously or if it was just a fact. All that mattered to him was that she remembered what kind of shampoo he used to use. "Yes, I do."

Anya nodded. "It smells nice. Clean." She shifted awkwardly. "So when are we going to meet..." She did not bother to try to remember the name. "...your friend?"

"Oh, yeah. Just wait here while I get dressed, and then I'll call him." Xander headed for his room, but halfway there, he turned around and walked backwards. "Feel free to help yourself to anything you want for breakfast."

When he came out of his room a few minutes later, Anya was eating cereal and reading something. He glanced down at it as he passed the table and saw that she was reading one of Erica's old finance magazines. It must have been lying around the living room somewhere. Anya was engrossed in the article, so he asked, "Does that trigger anything for you?"

She looked up. "No, but I am learning how to thrive in a barren market." She tapped the article. "I like money."

"Yeah." Xander was actually surprised that had not come up yet. "Much more than bowling."

She laughed and went back to reading her magazine. Once he had his cereal, Xander sat with her at the table, and it was just like old times. A little too much like old times. He felt a wave of disappointment when the knocking on the door interrupted their easy silence, because he knew they might never get back to this.

Anya hung back while Xander went to answer the door, but the second she saw Giles, she ran up to hug him. This was the strongest reaction she'd had to anyone yet. "I thought you were dead!"

Giles looked very uncomfortable with the whole hugging situation, but he let it persist for a few seconds before gently prying her off him. "I'm not sure why—"

Anya did not let him finish. "I remembered you dying. Or that you were dying. In the magic shop, _our_ magic shop. Willow killed you; it was the only way to stop her." She shook her head, thrilled to see the man standing in front of her.

Giles nodded. "Yes, well, I managed to survive that ordeal as you can see."

Since the reunion was going so well, Xander went to the table to clear off the breakfast dishes. Anya pulled Giles into the living room. "Were we—were we in love?"

Giles seemed very confused by the question. "What, you and I?"

"Yeah," Anya said eagerly. "I remember something. We were partners in the shop; we owned it together."

While she struggled with the rest of that memory, Giles took the time to explain. "Right. You bought into it as a partner. But, Anya, I assure you that's all there was to it. You and Xander were—"

"No." Armed with her recollection, she interrupted him again. "No, there was more. You kissed me."

In his surprise, Xander dropped the bowl he was holding into the sink. Luckily, it did not break. Up to that last thing, it was easy to see how Anya could be confused and think there was something more than there was, but this was something else. He turned around to face the two of them in the living room. "You kissed her?"

"No," Giles said quickly.

"Yes!" Anya disagreed. She looked to Xander. "I'm sorry if this is hard for you to hear, but I remember." She turned back to Giles. "We were in the Magic Box. You said you were sorry. You—I was afraid you were going to leave me. And you kissed me. And—and we were... together."

Xander did not like that pause before the "together." It was fraught with possibilities. It only took Xander a second to place Giles's departure back to England into the timeline of his own life. It was well before the wedding. And he was back for only a few hours before the Magic Box was destroyed. Xander waited for Giles's response with raised eyebrows.

Giles cleared his throat awkwardly. "There was a small incident where Willow accidentally erased all of our memories. It was just before I left for England and certain assumptions were made at the time. Perhaps that's what you're recalling now."

Xander remembered that spell now. There had been some assumptions made about the relationships between parties. That slightly softened the tacit admission that Giles kissed Anya. "So you remember thinking you were in love with him for, like, two hours, but you can't—" It was not her fault, and he had to remember that. So he shook that off and addressed Giles. "You're the one who taught Willow all this healing stuff. It might be better if you take Willow to the park today."

Anya moved a couple steps toward Xander. "You don't want to go with me?" She seemed unsure how to take that.

He was not mad at her, either of them. Not really. He was just frustrated, and it came out wrong. "I mean that Giles is better because he knows about the magic, like Willow, but he never tried to kill you, unlike Willow. This has nothing to do with..." He paused to gather his thoughts. "It's not about me; it's about what's best for you. I think you should go with Giles."

Anya accepted this, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Xander told himself not to read anything into that.

Giles pulled Xander aside. "Listen, that whole thing was—"

Xander did not need to hear whatever Giles was going to say. He did not want to hear anything that was supposed to make things okay. "It doesn't matter. You didn't do anything wrong, and it's not actually a big deal. That's probably why Anya never felt the need to tell me about it. What does matter is this healing thing. So if you want to make up for kissing my fiancée—What was that, six years ago?—then go with her to the park and make her better."

Giles gave Xander a searching look for a few moments, and then he nodded resolutely. "Okay. If you're sure." He went back over to where Anya was standing. "We can go whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready." On her way to the door, Anya gave Xander another sad glance. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

That almost broke through Xander's defenses. He almost asked if she wanted him there, but instead he just nodded. "You don't need me for this. And I need to get some work done." In his mind, he already had a full day planned of training Slayers and hitting things really hard.

–

Xander made sure that he got home before Anya. He knew that he had left things a little awkward between the two of them, and he did not want her to feel anything less than welcome when she returned to the apartment.

She got there a couple minutes after the sun completely set and left the sky black. Giles spent a few minutes at the apartment, telling Xander that, from his perspective, the day had gone well. And then he left, and it was just Xander and Anya again. Nothing had really changed since the night before, but it felt different now. He was no longer the only one she had. Objectively, he knew that was a good thing, but it just felt like another reason for her to pull away from him.

They spent the evening watching television for another night in a row. Xander saw this for what it was, and easy way to do occupy the time without having to interact with each other. When the 11 o'clock news started, Anya declared that she was going to bed.

Xander remembered a second too late that her going to bed meant he would be shut out of his bedroom. He jumped up from the couch and caught the door before she could close it. "I need to get some things."

Anya sat cross legged on the bed and watched him get his clothes out. "I've been thinking about this morning," she said.

Xander looked up from the drawer. "Don't worry about that."

"No, you were right," she insisted. "It's strange that I remember being in love with Giles, which wasn't real, but I don't remember what I felt for you. Or at least not enough of what I felt for you."

He really did not need her to rehash all this for him. "I'm sure it'll come back to you in time." With everything he needed in hand, he headed out of the room.

She got up from the bed and followed him back to the living room. "Maybe, but I think there's something we could do to help it along. I think we should go on a date."

Xander felt sure that he must have misinterpreted something there. "You want to go on a date? With me?"

"Yes, I think there is a good chance it might trigger something, for better or worse." She looked concerned that he might read too much into this. "I mean, nothing fancy. We could just re-create our first date or something. For memory's sake."

Anya asking him on a date when she did not really like him gave Xander a sense of nostalgia. In a way it was as though, without even intending to, she had already begun re-creating their first date. Of course, that was where the recreation had to end. "Our first date was the prom."

She shrugged. "Second date then."

Xander had to think for a moment to even remember what counted as their second date. "That was a Halloween party."

"Fine, then our third date." She was getting a little annoyed. "It doesn't really matter. You know what I mean. Just a typical one."

He was glad she let him off the hook because he did not want to have to admit that their third date might have been Thanksgiving dinner. They did not really go out much in the beginning stages of the relationship. "Yeah, I know what you mean. And I can do that."

"Okay." Anya's tone had a nervous but bright edge to it. "So I was thinking we could do this tomorrow. It'll be Friday, date night."

Xander nodded. "It's a date."

"Okay," she said again. "Well, good night." With that she headed back into the bedroom, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Xander sighed as he pulled out his mattress. Going on a date with Anya for her memory's sake. Yeah, there was no chance that could go poorly, he thought sarcastically.

–


	21. First Date

–

**Chapter 21—First Date**

Buffy had spent much of her Thursday pulling teeth to get Xander to tell her what was wrong. It took six hours of needling just to get him to finally tell her the story of Giles and Anya's kiss. Of course, once he did tell her, she understood why he would want to block it out. It was just so icky.

On Friday, she was ready for him. She fabricated a need to do research in the facility's basement. And even then, he managed to seem engrossed in the texts. That was how Buffy knew there was something on his mind; Xander never got engrossed in the texts. When the afternoon rolled around and the youngest Slayers got out of school, Spike went upstairs to give them real life vampire practice. As soon as he was gone, Buffy slid closer to Xander. "So..., what's going on?"

He patted the book he was reading. "Just researching Chinese water demons."

"Yeah." Buffy took the book away from him. "What else is going on? How's Anya?"

"She's... fine." When Buffy neither said anything nor gave him the research back, he elaborated. "The same. She's the same. And she's off working on that with Giles. So I'm sure she's fine."

She was not going to let it go so easily. "So you don't have anything you want to talk about? Nothing at all?" She was just going to keep pushing until she found the nerve. "It doesn't bother you that she's out with him and not you?"

"No, Giles is obviously better at that stuff. She should be with him." He reached for his book again, but Buffy kept it away from him. He sighed and sat back. "If this is you worrying about me because of the kiss, I'm not jealous of Giles. It didn't mean anything; they weren't in their right minds. We've all done things under spells that we'd rather forget. Things are fine between me and Anya." He paused, and then he casually added, "In fact, we're going out tonight."

Now they were getting somewhere. "Going out? Like _going out_? Like a date?"

"No, like dinner." He shook his head a little bit. "Technically, it's kind of like a date, but it's just to help her remember. It's not—It doesn't mean anything."

He could play it down all he wanted. Buffy could see what was going on in his head. "To help her remember you." She tossed the book back onto the stack at the far end of the table. "This is really good. You're living together; you're dating."

"We're not dating." He gestured emphatically with his hands to make his point. "She was very clear about what this is. It's just a memory thing, and I'm happy to help her with that, but that's all it is."

"Okay." Now that Buffy knew what was going on with him, she could stop pushing him. She understood why he needed to make light of the whole date thing. He couldn't afford to get his hopes up. "Still, it's good for her to remember."

Xander murmured a non-committal assent. Then, after a beat, he said, "But she only remembers the bad things I did. And a lot of them weren't even my fault, but I can't tell her that because we agreed to let her remember on her own. She thinks I was going to let you kill her. And she thinks a lot of other things that are just wrong, and that's all this dinner is going to end up bringing back, complicated situations completely out of context."

"You don't know that." Then Buffy realized that he might kind of know it because of the vengeance thing. So she switched tacks to meaningless platitudes. "Everything is going to work out the way it's supposed to."

"Yeah, because that's what usually happens," he said sarcastically.

Buffy did not like this. Xander was not supposed to be all doom and gloomy. He was supposed to be the one making inappropriate jokes no matter how hopeless a situation seemed. Now she needed to convince him that things working out _was_ what usually happened. "Take me for example. I was supposed to die ten years ago."

"You did die ten years ago."

She had meant it in the general short Slayer life expectancy way, but he was proving her point even better. "Yeah, and that all worked out. Because you saved me." She nudged his shoulder with her own. "So have faith. You're one of the good guys; the universe is going to take care of you."

He was not impressed by her argument. "Well, you know what they say, lucky in demon fighting, unlucky in love. I mean, this is the second time a woman has felt the need to take vengeance on me. Maybe I should take the hint."

Buffy took a second to think about that. "The first time around, you managed to wriggle out of it completely unscathed and get the vengeance demon in question to fall in love with you. You'll make it work this time too."

She knew that she should not be encouraging him to be too optimistic, because that could lead to heartache, but she really wanted to make him feel better, and she could not stop herself from talking. Luckily, her phone rang, and Buffy welcomed the distraction. She checked the display. It was Giles, but she decided not to tell Xander that because she did not want him to worry unless there was a reason to. She stepped away from the table to take the call. "Hey, how's everything going there?"

Buffy was surprised to hear Anya's voice on the other end. "Fine. I know that it's strange for me to be calling you after the whole you trying to kill me thing, but I need your help."

That she was fine and that she needed help from a Slayer seemed to be contradictory. "Help with what? Are you sure you're okay/"

"Yeah, it's just..." Buffy waited patiently for Anya to spit it out. "I have a date tonight, and I don't have anything to wear. I need to borrow better clothes."

Buffy let out a sigh of relief. That was good news on two fronts. One, no one was in mortal danger, and two, Anya considered this dinner a date. "Yeah, I can help you with that. When can you get to the apartment?"

She heard Anya ask Giles. "About ten minutes."

"See you then." Buffy hung up the phone and walked back to the table, where Xander was resuming the unnecessary research. "I have to go. That was Anya; she said needs help getting ready for her _date_." With that, Buffy headed for the stairs.

Xander pushed quickly away from the desk to follow her up to the main level. "Wait, and she wants _your_ help with that?"

For a second Buffy was a little offended, but then she realized what he meant. "Yeah, despite the fact that I tried to kill her. I guess it must be _really_ important to her that she make a good impression on her date." She knew that she should stop teasing him. "I'll let you know if she says anything you need to know."

Since all she had to do was cross the street, Buffy got to her apartment a few minutes ahead of the others. As soon as Giles got Anya safely upstairs, he left for less girly pastures. Buffy was not sure what she should say about the attempted slaying all those years before, but she was pretty sure the air needed to be cleared in some form. "So about me trying to kill you that one time, it wasn't really anything personal. It's just that it's my job, and you weren't—"

Anya held up her hand to stop Buffy. She grew all pensive, like she was remembering something. "It's your job because I was a demon. Obviously because of the thing with the sword. But then when did..." She trailed off. "I'm still so confused about everything that happened with you and Xander and everyone. With the demon stuff, the order doesn't much matter because it was all pretty much the same, but it matters with you. It matters when Xander did things. That's why this date is so important."

"Right." Since Anya did not seem to be looking for any kind of explanation, Buffy decided to leave it at that. "So clothes."

Anya headed into Buffy's room and straight for the closet. "I need something appropriate for a date, but that also covers up this whole area." She waved her hand over her chest. "There's still a lot of scarring. Something with a high neck that won't make me look like a nun." She turned to look at Buffy. "Did he say anything about it? Like what we're doing? Because that might help me decide on an outfit."

Buffy thought about what Xander said in his efforts to minimize the date and tried to think of what she should tell Anya. "He mentioned the date, but all he really said was that you guys were going to dinner."

"Dinner, okay." Anya stared into the closet, thinking. "It'll probably be kind of a nice place. Although I did say nothing fancy." She whipped back around. "He knows this is a real date though, right? It's not going to help me remember anything if we don't do it right."

Buffy came over to stand next to Anya. "Yeah, I'm sure he's taking this seriously."

"Good." She looked back at the closet for a second before a new concern distracted her from clothes. "But not too seriously? I mean, it's a date, but it's not—" She sighed. "He said he would marry me."

Buffy was not really sure where she was going with that. "And you're upset that he didn't?"

"No." Anya shook her head. "He said it two days ago. He told me that if I said I still wanted to marry him, he would take me to Vegas."

Buffy thought Xander had been playing it a little bit cooler than that, but she kind of admired him for putting it out there if that was what he really felt. She blew out her breath. "I don't think I have an outfit for that."

Anya sat on the bed. "Maybe this was a bad idea. It's just after the whole Giles thing—Do you know about the Giles thing?" Buffy nodded, because she knew as much about it as she ever wanted to. Anya continued, "After that, I decided that I needed to put more effort into remembering what happened with Xander. And I want to remember, but I don't want to lead him on or anything."

"Well, I don't know what Xander's saying to you in private, but I think he's got a pretty good handle on what this date is. And honestly, all he cares about right now is making you better." Buffy pulled out a shirt/skirt combo. "Here, try this on."

Anya passively took the clothes and laid them next to her on the bed. "So you don't think this is a bad idea?" At first, she was asking a legitimate question, but then she realized who she was talking to. "Of course you don't."

By this point, it was pretty obvious to all parties that Xander was one of Buffy's closest friends and that forced to choose sides, it was always going to be him. Still, Buffy wanted Anya to think of her as a friend. "I think that if this will help you, that's what he wants. And if he gets hurt in process?" Buffy shrugged. "He'll bounce back. I've seen him do it many times."

Anya fiddled with the hanger beside her. "How many times?"

Buffy had been trying to be reassuring and take the pressure off, and somehow she inadvertently triggered Anya's jealousy center. When she reflected on it, jealousy was probably a good sign. "Not... that many. A few." She backed herself up to the doorway. "I'll just give you some privacy," she said before closing the door.

It took five shirts and three skirts for Anya to find an outfit she liked. When that was settled, she took a shower to wash the park off of her, which gave Buffy an opportunity to call Xander.

He picked up after the first ring, which made Buffy think that he must have been waiting for her call. She cut straight to the chase. "Okay, here's what I found out. She wants you to take this seriously and think of it as a real date. Because that's the only way it'll help her remember."

She could almost hear him nodding on the other end. "Okay."

There was really only one other thing she thought Xander should know. "Beyond that, she's just worried about the same things every girl is worried about before a first date. Is it going to go well, and is he going to expect too much?"

He took the wrong message from that. "I don't expect anything."

"I'm just saying that, despite your history, you need to treat this more like a first date. Like you've never seen her naked." Buffy heard the water shut off. "She's getting out of the shower, so I should wrap this up. What time are you going to pick her up?"

There was a pause. "Around eight. I'm picking her up there?"

"Yeah." Buffy had meant to tell him about that. "Oh, yeah, because I have all the girly things she needs, so it works better if she just gets ready here where she can exfoliate and do all kinds of things you don't want to know about. And you can do whatever it is that guys do to get ready. And we will see you around eight." Buffy did a quick mental check to make sure that she'd told him everything, and then she hung up on Xander.

–

The closer it got to eight, the more anticipation Anya felt. Once she was dressed, made up, and coiffed, there was nothing to do but wait. It was a terrible feeling. Just waiting. Buffy kept telling her to sit down. "I can't. Because the second I sit down, he'll be at the door and I'll have to get up again." Buffy just laughed at her.

Xander eventually showed up of course. The clock in Buffy's living room said 8:03 when the knock finally came. Anya took a deep breath and counted to five before going to answer the door. This also made Buffy laugh, but Anya ignored her.

His reaction to seeing her was gratifying. The way his eye took in her tight shirt and short skirt made all the prep time and waiting seem worth it. "You look great," he said.

"Thank you. You look..." She did not know what to say because he pretty much looked the same. "Nicer."

It must have been an okay thing to say because Xander smiled. "Well, we should get going." He looked behind her and waved. "Bye, Buffy."

This date was Anya's idea, but as she left the apartment with him, she realized that she did not really know much about dating. She remembered her life with Olaf pretty well, but back then "dating" was different. She sold him furs a few times, watched him drink ale at the bar, and then he made an arrangement with her father. Things were much simpler when she was young. And then, of course, she remembered a thousand years of horror stories about love gone wrong, but that did not really tell her anything that would help in this situation.

Xander opened the car door for her, which was nice. He didn't usually do that. Not since she came back anyway. Then he got into the driver's side, and they were off into the city part of San Diego. "So," he said. "It's looks like you and Buffy worked some things out."

Actually, over the few hours they spent together, Anya had managed not think much about that memory of the large house and the sword through her chest. "Well, I'm still not completely okay with the whole killing thing, but I guess Buffy nice enough now. I'm sure she had a compelling reason for it."

"Are you going to want to move back there?"

He said it casually enough, but Anya could tell that it was not what he wanted, which was a relief because it was not what she wanted either. "Not that compelling. I'm good with the way things are now. Especially since at your place I get to sleep in a bed."

The sun had just finished going down, so that it was dim but not yet completely dark, and Anya could make out her relief mirrored on Xander's face. The momentary solace Anya got from knowing they were on the same page gave way to the old concerns about Xander's feelings for her. She was still having trouble feeling anything back. But that was what this date was supposed to fix.

After that, the conversation lulled, and they got to the restaurant in an uneasy silence. It was small, cozy, and a little intimate, but not too fancy. Xander had a reservation, and he guided her to the table with his hand on the small of her back. It was all very nice, but it was not evoking any feelings for Anya. When they were seated, she tried to relax and let this be a real date. "So, people usually talk to each other on dates, right?"

"Yeah." Xander thought about that. "Although it does pose a little bit of a problem that you don't remember much about your life and I can't talk about mine."

Anya did remember things. In fact, she remembered quite a bit about being a demon, but she imagined Xander did not want to hear about that. "You can talk about things from before you met me."

"Right, like the time I cheated on Cordelia with Willow. I'm really keen to tell you all about that." He seemed to realize that sarcasm was not the right way to go there. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Actually, Anya did want to hear how that all happened, but she decided not to ask outright. "Well, we can either talk about your infidelity or I can tell you tales of the infidelity of other men. It's up to you."

"I choose talking about the failings of other men." He sighed. "There's no real story there. It was just one of those things, you know?"

She really did not. "No."

Xander nodded. Then something flashed across his face, and he leaned across the table. "Cordelia was a high school thing that was never meant to last, and I know what I did to her was wrong. But, Anya, I never cheated on you."

On the one hand, he looked so sincere and concerned that she wanted to believe him. But on the other hand, she did not want to implicitly believe anything from him. "What about Erica?"

She was asking if he ever cheated on Erica, but he completely misconstrued the question. "Oh, um,... I mean there were other women after you..." He looked around. "While you were gone. But I don't think that really counts as—"

This reminded Anya of something Buffy said earlier that day, and she forgot about her original question. "How many other women?"

His eye went wide, realizing that he had brought up a whole new conversation he did not want to have. "No. No, it wasn't like a lot. Two, just two."

"Xander, relax. I don't care." She said that intending to mean it, but it did occur to her that this was the second time she had pressed for those details just in the last few hours.

"Okay." He seemed glad to hear that. "Well, if we could get off the topic of infidelity, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. I don't really know if it's appropriate conversation fodder for a date, but I wanted to make sure that you knew that you have options."

She did not know what he meant by that. "Options for what?"

"For after you're better." He put his hand to his chest to indicate self. "_I_ really enjoy having you here in San Diego, and I am definitely not trying to tell you to leave, but there are other places you could go and still be part of our organization. For example, you could go to England with Giles. Or Italy with Andrew. You still like Andrew, right?"

Anya had not really thought about him much, but she did not remember anything yet to change how she felt about Andrew. "Yeah, I guess. He's a little strange, but I guess he's relatively harmless."

"Yeah, or if you want to stay in the States, we have a pretty strong presence in L.A, which isn't that far. Or there's the doctor's squad in Atlanta. Or Faith is in Cleveland." He stopped to think of other places she could go.

This was the first time Anya had heard that name, Faith, but it conjured something. "Why would I want to be with Faith?" she asked slowly, as she tried to figure out what she was feeling. "She... She had you first." There it was. "You lost your virginity to her."

Xander shushed her. "Maybe not so loud. And I thought you didn't..." He let that go unfinished. "Okay, not Cleveland then."

Anya picked up her menu. "I think San Diego's okay for a while." In order to stall any more conversation, she raised the menu up so that it was hiding her face from him.

From there, the dinner went just okay. They had trouble finding things to talk about. There was awkwardness to him being so much more experienced at this than she was, and throughout the meal, Anya could not stop thinking about Faith. Slowly, she began to recall specifics about Sunnydale's trampiest Slayer. Those were not really the kind of memories she had hoped this date would evoke, but they were something new.

By the time the check came, Anya had decided where this date was going to end, in same place a typical date night would end for them back when there were together. Once it occurred to her, she knew that had to be part of her concept of doing the date right. It was time to get serious about remembering her life in Sunnydale. She just needed a little more time to get used to the idea. "What else would we normally do?"

Xander shrugged as he slid his credit card into the holder. "Go to The Bronze."

She was glad he had an answer. "Then we should do that."

–

The Bronze obviously was not an option anymore, but Xander knew of a club that was pretty similar. As an added bonus, he knew they had a lax carding policy, as he had busted many an underage Slayer there. This fact was convenient for once, since Anya did not have any identification.

Xander was having trouble figuring out what was going on in Anya's head. Other than that one thing about Faith, she had not indicated that the date was helping her to remember anything. He figured that was probably the reason she wanted to extend the date, because she was still holding out hope that this would work.

After about forty-five minutes and half a beer, Anya had taken to sitting at a table with a melancholy expression on her face. Xander asked her what was wrong.

She shook her head. "I'm just tired."

It was barely after ten, but she had been going to bed pretty early recently. "Oh, do you want to go back to my apartment?"

Anya looked at him with lifeless eyes and sighed. "No, I mean that I'm tired of not being who you want me to be. I see the way you look at me, Xander. And it's exhausting not living up to it."

Xander looked around. They were in pretty a crowded corner of the club, and he did not want to talk about this with so many people around. "I really think it would be better to have this conversation at the apartment."

He took her arm, but she resisted a little. A young, attractive man who probably in his early twenties stepped in to intervene. "The lady said she didn't want to go with you."

Xander wanted to ask this guy if he was serious. If he'd been listening to the conversation enough to hear her say that, then clearly he would know there was a whole complicated relationship thing going on here. Xander let go of her arm to avoid an escalating incident. "Anya?"

She looked between the two men, and it seemed that she did not know what to do. She put her hands to her head as though it was all too much for her. Xander tried to think of what he could say in front of people to make it better for her without suggesting leaving. "I'm sorry if you feel like I'm putting pressure on you. But you were the one who wanted to go out tonight."

That definitely did not make things better, except that her lifeless eyes now had a little fire in them. "Right, me, I'm always the one. I was the one who didn't want to keep seeing each other."

Xander knew exactly what she meant by that. He did not remember which fight it was, but he knew it was about him blaming her for the break-up. He also knew that her would-be protector would completely misinterpret it, and he was right.

The guy put his arm around her, leering. "Just so you know, unlike this guy, I would never want you to be anything more than what you are."

Xander rolled his eye. "That's a bold position to take since you don't even know her. I mean, I get that she's the most attractive woman here. Believe me, I get it. But reeking of desperation is not that sexy."

The guy smirked at him. "Yeah, because the wannabe Johnny Depp look is so much better. I think Anya here has made her choice. You should go before it gets embarrassing."

It was frustrating to Xander that he could not assert any kind of claim on her at this point because that would put the dreaded pressure on her, even if he was only saying it to get rid of this guy. So Xander went in an entirely different direction. "Johnny Depp didn't wear an eye patch, and there was actually a one-eyed character in that franchise. Plus, the whole pirate thing is pretty unimaginative. I'd actually really appreciate a good Col. Tigh reference. We're in a bar, he's an alcoholic; it's an easy one. Speaking of bars, I actually lost this eye in a bar fight, so you might not want to mess with me."

Anya shrugged off the other guy and rubbed her shoulder. "It was a vineyard."

She had a knack for remembering the most inconvenient details. "Close enough, with the alcohol."

"Yeah." She kept rubbing her shoulder with a far off look. Xander wondered if she was making a connection between the vineyard and the Bringers and her death. "I wasn't there. But she made a mistake. She got them killed."

The sudden loss of the upper hand left the other guy looking confused and alarmed. Xander had enough experience with this type of thing to know what to say. He addressed his comment to Anya. "I find a lot things can be easily explained if you just tell people you're from Sunnydale."

The guy stared at him for second, and then he gave a tentative laugh like he thought this was a prank. "Sunnydale is a series of urban legends, but everyone knows it wasn't actually like that." His smile almost faltered. "It couldn't have been."

Xander shrugged. He was more concerned with what he should do about Anya. "I don't want to crowd you or force you into anything, but I can't leave you here alone, not with everything that's going on. Do you want me to call Buffy?"

Anya broke out of her thoughts about the last couple weeks of her life. "What?" She shook her head. "No, I want to—I want to go the apartment." This time she took his arm and, without either of them saying any more to their new acquaintance, she dragged him through the sea of club goers and out to the street.

–

No one really said anything during the drive home. There was a strange, heavy atmosphere in the car, and Anya felt like it was choking her. She should have said something to that guy much earlier on. She was not sure why she hadn't.

When he parked the car, Xander turned to her. "I just want to say that I'm not mad at you. I mean if you wanted to go... It's just such a complicated situation, and I don't really know the best way to handle it, An... Ya, Anya."

The way he shortened her name filled Anya with a vague, empty sense of longing. Things had gotten off track at the club, but now it was time to course correct and finish this date the right way. She took off her seat belt. "I didn't want to go with him. I wanted to go home with you."

–

–

**Author's Note:** In case it's obscure, Col. Tigh is from Battlestar Galactica, and (spoiler!) he loses an eye. And between that and an earlier Star Wars reference, I've now exhausted my sci-fi geek cred.


	22. Passion

**Chapter 22—Passion**

Xander opened the door to his apartment ready to call this night a success. Anya had remembered Faith, the thing at the winery, and that he thought their breakup was largely her fault. She'd remembered lots of stuff, and that was the only real goal here. He forced himself to keep in mind that this date was all about memory, and in that sense, it had gone well.

Anya came into the apartment behind him, surveying the place almost like she had never been there before. It was actually a lot like a woman coming into a man's apartment for the first time. She turned around to face him. "I think we should have sex," she said matter-of-factly.

Xander had not been expecting that at all. "I didn't think the date was going that well."

"It wasn't," she conceded, shaking her head. "But, um..." She took a couple steps toward him and backed him up to the wall. "This is what we would typically do after a date, right?"

Xander sidestepped to get away from her. "That is a terrible reason to have sex."

Anya took a second, seeming to be calculating the best way to do this. "Come on, Xander." She took one of his hands in hers and started pulling him to the bedroom. "After all this time, you finally have me back in your bed. Don't you want to join me there?"

Xander flipped the light switch into the on position as he passed it. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't tempted, but it would be wrong. So he opted to kill the mood. "Is this about that thing with Faith?"

Something in her eyes flashed. She really did not like Faith. "No, it's about us. About getting back to us. I mean, we have had sex before, right?"

She was actually asking. She sounded confident that she knew the answer, but there was room in her tone for contradiction. She could not remember whether she'd had sex with him. It was not exactly an ego boost. "Yeah. But, Anya—"

She was not interested in the rest of what he had to say. She pushed him so that he was sitting on the bed. "Okay, well, I figure the sex must have been at least kind of good if I was willing to commit to it for life."

Xander sighed. "Yeah, it was good, but, Anya, you don't even like me."

Using his shoulder to steady herself, she slipped her feet out of her heels. "And here's your chance to change that." She discarded the shoes by tossing them behind her.

The fact that she just admitted through omission that she did not like him made it easier to say no. "I don't think this is a good idea. You're still..." He had trouble thinking of the right way to describe it.

"Still what?" Anya gave him a few seconds to supply an answer, but he didn't have one. "I'm not mentally impaired, Xander. I'm not some child who needs protecting. I've actually been an adult for a long, long time. I may have some gaps in my memory, but I am capable of knowing what I want. And I want to remember sex."

She lowered her head to kiss him, and Xander was so persuaded by her reasonable argument that he almost missed that last part. He jerked his head back at the last moment. "Wait, you don't remember sex at all? Because then this is very, very wrong."

"No, I remember," she said unconvincingly. She looked up like she was trying to force a memory to come up just then. "There was a table and... Spike. I had sex with Spike. So I remember."

She looked down at him like that fixed everything. "Yeah, that's great," Xander said.

Apparently his sarcasm was a little too dry this time because she responded with a flippant, "It was." She stared down at him. Her expression started out as pensive, but after a few seconds it gave way to something more akin to ravenous. She ran her hand down his chest. "But you're different than him." She brought her hand back up and wrapped it around the back of his neck. "You're so warm. Hot, like a fever."

Xander gently removed her hand from his neck. "So I feel like a sick person fight off infection? Real sexy."

In a surprise move, Anya pushed him onto his back and pulled at his shirt to untuck it. "It is," she said as she slid that same hand under the shirt. She spoke slowly, breathlessly. "You're so alive. Just teeming with antibodies. Your blood pumping through your veins, all over your body, making you so _hot_."

Xander should not have been surprised that she could make antibodies sound seductive. And hey, if the mere act of being alive was an advantage here, he'd take it. While he was considering the possibility that maybe it would not be so wrong to have sex with Anya, she climbed onto the bed with him, straddling him, and once again moved to kiss him. This time he let her, deciding to reserve the decision for a little bit longer.

It was their first kiss in over five years, and even though she was giving it her all, Xander knew that it meant much more to him than it could possibly mean to her. He was leaning toward not doing this with her tonight, but then she brought her hand up between their bodies to unbutton his shirt from the top down. As her hand went from one button to the next, going lower each time, he completely changed his position again.

When her work there was done, she pushed open his shirt and sat back to admire his chest. She had definitely seen it in better days, but she did not remember that. Decision made, Xander pushed up the bottom of her shirt. Anya got the message and removed it completely. Then Xander once again saw the scar that cut across her entire body. He had forgotten that was there.

She saw the way he was looking at her, and she glanced down at her own chest. "Oh, yes, I am horribly disfigured. That's not going to be a problem, is it?"

"No." He could have pointed out his whole situation with his eye, but he was fascinated by her body. He traced his hand over the exposed part of her stomach. The first time he had seen this scar it looked fresh, thick and bright red. He thought about that night for a second. It was exactly a week ago, and in that short time, it had faded to a dull pink. It now looked years old. "It really looks like you've been making progress. You know, the doctor's been in L.A. with Dawn, but they're coming down tomorrow. Maybe it's time for you to get checked out again."

"Xander." She leaned over him. "Let's not talk about other women right now."

That put Xander in mind of her decision to bring up Spike earlier, but he quickly pushed that away. He rolled Anya onto her back so that he could wriggle out of his own shirt. It was not an entirely conscious thing, but earlier that night he had mapped out where the zipper was on her skirt. So, as soon as his shirt was off, he knew exactly where to go to get her out of the rest of her clothes. He got caught up on that little hook, but once that was undone, everything went smoothly from there.

When Xander looked back on it, he realized this was how it started for them the first time. First, she asked him out on a date for non-romance reasons, then she decided she really wanted to have sex with him. And it was just supposed to be one time and then she'd be over him, but instead, they built a whole relationship from there. It was so tempting to think that maybe that could happen again here. Despite all their missteps earlier, when it came to the sex itself, she actually did a good job of convincing him this was what she wanted.

There was one thing though. Anya closed her eyes fairly early on and kept them closed almost the entire time. Xander forced himself to pretend not to notice. Her breathing was heavy, the noises were right, and he was the one doing that to her. He told himself that mattered more than her actually seeing him. Whatever else was going on in her head, she was feeling _him_, and he told himself that was the most important thing.

As they approached the climax of the experience, she made a breathy sound that could have been his name. That surprised Xander because, as he now realized, he had really believed she was pretending he was not there. If he had expected to hear anything, it would have been a different name.

She was tipped forward, hovering above him. He pulled her head down, and her lips found his with an intensity and hunger that made it feel like the old days before everything went so wrong. Her hand moved up to grip his hair the way it had been gripping the sheet. It was a little painful, but that was okay with Xander.

Throughout all of this, her eyes remained tightly shut. It was not until everything was over that she finally opened them, making eye contact with him for the first time in quite a while. She stared down at him with an unreadable expression before climbing off and lying on her back beside him. After a second, she said, "I don't think we should do that again."

On some level, he knew that was what she would have to say. They were playing by a certain set of rules, and there was only so much he could do to change them. It did not matter how she acted or what she might have said in the throes of passion; she had no choice but to hurt him. She was on his left side, so he had to turn his head pretty far to the side just to be able to see her. "Right, sorry it was so disappointing or whatever."

"Disappointing?" She pulled at the sheet that had mostly fallen to the floor. She covered herself and offered him the other half. "No, it was..." She rolled her eyes, thinking he was fishing for compliments. "You know it was good. It was actually a lot better than I expected." She paused. "It was kind of better than I remember."

"Well, you only remember having sex with—" Xander smiled to himself. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Anya stared up at the ceiling. "It was just so... easy."

That was a strange word to choose there. "Easy? What does that mean?"

She continued without really answering his question. "I remember that now. Sex was always the easiest part of our relationship. We never had any problems there, except with the not having it. And when we were together just now, it was good and easy, and... And it felt right. Like I was finally home. For the first time since all this started, I felt like I knew where I belonged. Here, with you. Like I could just drown in you and I would never have to come up for air because you are air."

She sounded like she was complaining about that last thing, but Xander was not sure he saw the problem. "That doesn't sound so bad."

She turned her head to look at him. "I don't want you to be my air, Xander. I still don't like you. I still don't remember anything good coming out of our relationship, except now, this. Which makes me think maybe that's the explanation, maybe I stayed in an unhealthy relationship because the sex was just so good."

Okay, so now it was an unhealthy relationship? He really did not know where she was getting all of this. "That's not what happened."

She bit her lip. "As much as I enjoyed what we just did, we can't do it again because I don't like that you make me feel this way. I don't want you to feel like home to me."

Xander found that a little confusing since she was living in his apartment and she'd just said that she wanted to stay in San Diego. It seemed that she wanted his home; she just did not want him to be a part of that. He supposed this was all part of the spell. "Okay. I'll just go sleep in my own bed."

He started to sit up, but she pushed him down. "This is your own bed. Just stay." She had used her far arm to stop him from getting up, rolling onto her side in the process. She snuggled up against him pressing her face against his arm. "It's okay if you make me feel this way for one night."

Xander did not want to move for fear of ruining this arrangement, but the overhead light was still on. He wished the switch was not so far away. "Do you want me to at least get the lights?"

She raised her head and seemed to realize that her side of the bed was closer to that wall. She sighed and threw off the sheet. "I'll get it."

Xander had not meant for her to feel the need to get up, but he was not going to protest because she was completely naked as she walked over to the lightswitch. On her way back, he felt her pat the mattress a few times to make sure it was where she thought it was. Then she climbed into bed, took back her share of the sheet, and flopped an arm across his chest again.

She dragged her nails lightly across his skin. "It—It was good for you too, right? I mean, you weren't disappointed, were you?"

It sounded like she was trying to be nonchalant, but her insecurity shone through. "No," Xander said before realizing that was kind of an ambiguous answer. "Or yes, it was good, and no, I wasn't disappointed. It was exactly as good as I remember it being."

Anya pulled her hand away. "Just _as_ good? I said you were better."

"Than Spike." He thought about how to smooth this over. "And I appreciate that, but see, I was comparing you to you. And you set the bar very high the first time around."

"So... it was disappointing?"

That was not what he said at all. He reached up to put his arm around her and pull her closer. "No, it was amazing. You were amazing." He brushed her hair out of his face. "Now, just go to sleep."

He did not hear anything more from her, so he assumed she was following his advice. He waited for sound of her breathing becoming regulated before he attempted to fall asleep himself. Years before, he learned it was better to let her fall asleep first, because generally his snoring did not wake her, but it did keep her from being able to fall asleep. And then she'd passive aggressively make a lot of noise to wake him up. Mostly, it was just easier to wait.

As he listened to the woman he loved falling asleep in his arms, Xander thought about all the ways she had described the night. Easy, right, like she was finally where she belonged. He basically agreed with the assessment. Except for the part where belonging with him was somehow a bad thing. But it was okay, because as long as she was hurting him, she was serving her purpose for vengeance. And that meant that maybe she could stay alive, and that was all that really mattered.

–

–

**Author's Note**: I'm not much for writing sex scenes, but they were a very sexually charged couple, so hopefully I hit a happy medium. (And incidentally, above is exactly how I deal with other people's snoring.)

For some reason, I think Dawn was in 9th grade in both Seasons 5 and 6. I remember the Season 5 thing (maybe the monks will put 9th grade in her head too), but I don't remember what she said in 6 to make me think that. If I'm right, that means that now Dawn would be in the summer before her senior year of college. But if I'm wrong, there are still several ways she could lose a year (i.e. having to repeat the Season 7 year or taking a year off). So in this story, that's where Dawn is in school.


	23. Normal Again

–

**Chapter 23—Normal Again**

Anya snuggled in close to Xander as she fell asleep. Post sex, there was even more heat radiating from his body. It was not even particularly cold in the apartment, but for some reason, she needed the warmth right then. And even though she knew that body heat was not unique to Xander, she felt that it was specifically _his_ warmth she needed.

He smelled of sweat and musk and sex, and Anya liked that. She had gotten used to falling asleep to that smell. As she drifted off, everything about this felt right, and because of that, it felt wrong. It scared her, like it had scared her before. Their first time, he had been fumbling and inexperienced. He only kind of knew what he was doing, but it was still just fantastic. A thousand years of occasional sex still added up to a lot of sex for Anya, but it had never been like that. Some silly teenager who lived with his parents was able to make her feel things she hadn't felt in a thousand years. He was older now, had his own place, but he was still making her feel things she was not prepared to feel.

Anya was already half asleep when the memory of that first time in Xander's musty basement came back to her. From there, she drifted deeper into the dream world. The night started out being one of her better ones, memory-wise. It was as if now that she had remembered sex on her own, all of those memories were fair game. Most notably, there was something with a vaulting horse that actually made her question whether she really wanted to go the rest of her life never again having sex with Xander Harris.

Then her dreams took a darker turn. They were sitting on the floor of a bedroom. Anya was hot, and not in a good way. The air was so thick, and she felt like she was going to suffocate. And there was no way out. Nothing they could do. "He" was going to die, and then they would be next. It was in the walls. She could hear it creaking inside, and they were all just trapped there, like animals.

At every second, Xander was trying to comfort her. They would come up with a plan. It would be okay. They were not going to die. He was scared too, but they were going to get through this. He was going to get her water to cool her down. He told her to stay there, not to move. But after endless seconds, she heard him cry out. She tried to get to her feet, but she was lightheaded. There was crashing coming from downstairs. She had to find Xander.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Xander was on the ground, bleeding from his arm. As soon as he saw her, he quickly got to his feet. He wasn't moving his arm right, but he pretended like everything was fine. He didn't even care about his arm; all he worried about was reassuring her. He got her settled at the dining room table with a plate of stale cake before taking care of his wound.

And they all wanted to stand around and discuss options. It was obvious what needed to be done, but Anya was the only one willing to say it. They were stuck there because of some kind of spell, and the most powerful witch in the room refused to do anything, refused to even try. As far as Anya was concerned, the time for coddling the little addict was over. They could all die; it was time for Willow to do something. Xander spoke up, said that Anya had a point, but Tara (_Tara?_) would have none of it. So fine, Anya would find a way to save them herself. The dream ended as she ran back up the stairs.

–

Calreg had this whole thing figured out, a non-interference policy. She would sit back and let D'Hoffryn's hit squad take care of Anyanka. Sure, Anyanka was living with a Slayer—_the_ Slayer—but those guys were tough. One of them would make Anyanka dead, and then Calreg would be off the hook, and everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be.

Except it still had not happened. Calreg could tell that Anyanka was still alive. For reasons she did not understand, she was even more connected to this wish than usual. With every passing second, she could feel Anyanka's life force staying active.

She had spent the last several days in South Africa, just to distance herself from the whole affair. Of course, there was no running from D'Hoffryn, and the call from Arashmahaar finally came on Saturday, late in the afternoon local time. This meant that D'Hoffryn's tolerance had worn out, and Calreg knew better than to make him wait this time.

He did not waste his breath with pleasantries. "It's time to kill her."

–

Anya woke up suddenly, out of breath and shivering. Xander was about to sarcastically ask what he had done this time, but he stopped himself because she was really upset about something. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"There was a—" She decided to start the story somewhere else. "It was Buffy's birthday." That fact alone pretty much told Xander all he needed to know. "And we were trapped inside the house."

He knew that one. "Ah, yes, the wacky 'nobody can leave' spell. Fun times." He remembered the spell and the demon, but he tried to conjure up more details.

"There was a demon in the walls, and you were hurt. And Willow wouldn't even do anything." She paused. "You took my side. You thought she should try."

Xander was so busy filing that away as an anti-Willow memory that it took a second to hear what she was really saying. "I took your side against Willow. So that was a good memory?"

She looked a little confused by that. "Actually, it was a fairly horrific one. But you did take my side."

From Xander's perspective, that was the memory's take home message. Because the more he had thought about her claim that he never took her side, the more he became convinced that she was right. He had not been able to come up with one example, but then she supplied it. He was vindicated.

There was a little bit of light coming in through the window, and Anya squinted at Xander. "Do you sleep in that thing?"

It took him a few seconds to figure out what thing she was talking about. It was the eye patch, of course. The answer was no. He never normally slept in it because that would be a ridiculous thing to do. But every night since she started staying with him, he had made the conscious choice to leave it on just so that she would not catch a glimpse of what was under it. Because that was not a pretty sight, and she should be eased into it. He was not about to admit any of his vanity to her though. "Sometimes."

She propped herself up on her elbow. "Why would he want to put your eye out anyway?"

Xander was not sure there was much point to delving into the mind of a psychotic preacher, but there was an answer. "Because I see things. Not like I'm psychic, just in a general..." He was getting away from the question. "Because he was crazy and evil. Not much more to it than that, really."

Anya gazed down at him, a lot of different emotions running across her face. Old, familiar emotions. Finally, she said, "So, as soon as we get out of this bed, it's over."

That was not what Xander had wanted to hear from her. "What is?"

She sounded sad as she answered. "This one night of me letting you make me feel this way."

It occurred to Xander then that they did not have to sleep together for her to feel things. Her feelings were probably not going to work like a faucet she could just turn off. He decided to try something, so he glanced at the window where the sun was streaming in. "The night's already over, An."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Right." She stared at his mouth for a few seconds, as though to say that she was already tempted to extend that one night into more. Then she nodded resolutely and repeated, "Right. So we should just make it official." She began to throw off the covers to get out of bed, but she stopped and looked at him again. "Would you mind looking away?"

Xander was not sure there was much point to being modest now, but he turned his head to the other side anyway. This morning's memories were a victory for him, and a little uncharacteristic bashfulness was not going to ruin that.

–

Calreg wished that D'Hoffryn had not phrased it that way. She would not be killing Anyanka, not really. She would just be restoring the balance, and all that other crap she said to Erica on the first night. "Why now?"

He was not pleased with her stalling, which was not even what it was. She was legitimately curious. After a long, pregnant pause, he answered her. "It has been a week. More than that. I gave you seven full human days. And now it is time to kill her."

Calreg held back a sigh when he said it again. He knew she would hate it; he was testing her, seeing how far her insolence would go. And the one thing she knew was that she was not willing to die for this. She took her pendant in her hand, just for the pageantry of the whole thing. If she was going to kill Anyanka, she was going to do it with some flair. She took a deep breath and close her eyes, even though none of that was necessary. "Undone."

–

Xander could really be quite annoying when he wanted to. He was really caught up on this taking her side thing. She was glad that she had not told him about the rest of the dream. The part where he was amazing and took care of her even though he was the one who had been hurt. The part where she really finally believed on a deep level that he did love her once. Yeah, she was glad he did not know about that, or he would be unbearable.

She had hastily dressed in her underwear and his button up shirt just to have something to wear. He had boxers and a t-shirt, because his clothes were everywhere in that room. He followed her into the living room. "I'm just saying that maybe I wasn't such a bad boyfriend after all."

There were other things. She was not basing it all off his not taking her side. First of all, the leaving her at the altar was pretty huge. And then there were other things he said, like when he told her... And suddenly, at long last, she recalled the context of what he said that night. _I look at you, and all I feel is sick, because you let that evil, soulless thing touch you. _Dammit, now that wasn't even so bad. He was obviously talking about Spike, and she could kind of understand that reaction. Because, she remembered now, that was mere weeks after their non-wedding, far too soon to be rebounding with vampires.

She decided to focus on the original issue before anything else came back to negate her previous assessment. "No, it doesn't actually change anything. You took my side because I was right. You just happened to agree with me; it was bound to happen eventually. You had been cut. The kid in the red shirt was dying. Having a powerful witch do something about that was the only thing that made sense. You weren't—" She was stopped by a sharp pain in her abdomen. She tried to ignore it and get back to what she was saying. "Um, you weren't—weren't even really—Oh, god!" She doubled over with her hand to her stomach.

She had her eyes shut, wincing at the pain, but she could feel Xander get closer. "Are you okay?"

Anya wanted to shrug it off, say it was just a cramp, but she knew it was more than that. She sank down to her knees. "No." Then even kneeling was too much for her, and she fell back onto the carpet. "Something's wrong."

–

–

**Author's Note:** So you know that "all I feel is sick" thing? Turns out that's not exactly what he said, because I finally re-watched that scene for this ending. (It was just "I feel sick." I'm usually really good about fact checking. I guess I just thought I knew that one.) But I'm leaving it because it actually makes sense that she would remember it in a way that was slightly harsher than what he actually said. And if it's going to be off anyway, I might as well streamline it for pithiness. So that's pretty much what he said, but not quite how he said it. (Really close though.)


	24. Bargaining, Part One

**Author's Note:** You know that feeling when you write a chapter, and then you realize that you hate it, and you have to start over from the beginning? That was my Friday.

–

–

**Chapter 24—Bargaining, Part One**

Xander should have known that it would never last. Things were going too well; he should have realized that it was all going to fall apart. Anya collapsed onto the floor, telling him that something was wrong. And really, he should have seen that coming.

Immediately, he knew that the best thing to do would be to call Willow, but his mind refused to stop there. Instead of going for his phone, he watched Anya clutch her stomach, and he thought the traitorous thought that maybe it was finally time to accept that this was always how it was going to end. Maybe the best thing would actually be to kneel by her side and be with her when she died this time. Part of him felt that the time spent finding his phone in the bedroom might just be a waste of the little time he had left. What if she slipped away completely during those few seconds? That possibility echoed in his head and made it impossible for him to move his feet.

For a week now, Xander had been forcing himself not to think that way. It was not in his nature to accept hopelessness, especially in light of everything he had seen since his sophomore year of high school. When it came right down to it, he would rather be doing something than doing nothing. He slowly backed his way into his bedroom. "I'm going to call Willow," he said to keep Anya informed. He held off on adding, "Don't die while I'm gone."

He took his eyes off Anya for all of ten seconds, but when he came back to the living room, he found her curled up on her side in the fetal position, not really moving. With the phone to his ear, he approached her warily, fearing the worst. He was so focused on watching for any sign of life that he was startled with Willow answered the phone. He shook his head so that he could think. "There's something wrong with Anya."

Xander was going to explain further, to the extent that he could, but hearing his voice evoked movement from Anya. She rolled onto her back, still clutching her stomach, and said, "Tell her that it really hurts." She took a few labored breaths. "All over."

Over the phone, Willow was asking what was wrong, and Xander relayed Anya's message. Then he turned away because he did not want Anya to hear what he was about to say. "I think it's happening. I think she's..." He did not even want himself to hear it. He lowered his voice more. "I think she's dying."

There was a slight pause and a sympathetic sigh. "All right. I'm on my way."

Xander knew what Willow was not saying. She did not know what she was going to be able to do this time. Probably there was nothing she could do anymore. But right now Willow was all he had. Considering the early hour, he was sure the doctor was still in L.A., and even if she left now, it would still be hours before she could get there. He decided he should still call her, in case there was any helpful information she could impart over the phone.

As he scrolled through his contacts, he wandered back to Anya's side. Looking up at him, Anya gasped. Xander dropped his phone to his side and gave her his full attention. "What's wrong?"

"Buffy." She pointed up at him. "She was standing over me with the sword. And you..." She brought her hand back to her abdomen and paused to give herself a second to work through the pain. "You tackled her. You saved me."

Oh, these were definitely the end times here. A week of him coming to terms with the knowledge that he "never actually saved the girl," and that's the language she chose to use right then. He got down on his knees beside her. "No, I didn't really. In fact, it was Willow who saved you."

Anya shook her head. "Oh, Xander, you saved me long before that day." She got a glassy look in her eyes, and Xander leaned closer to make sure she was still in there. After a second, she continued. "I remember things now. Things about you." She reached out her hand to him, looking like it hurt just to move. "I never even got to say goodbye. Xander..."

She was weak, and that caused her to trail off. Xander took her hand, not liking where this was going. He took this opportunity to stop her from saying it. "Hey now, what kind of talk is that? Willow's going to get here soon and patch you up, and then you can go right back to hating me again. You'll see."

"Xander..." Anya was determined to get it out. She took a few more deep breaths. "I don't—"

She started to cough, which was bad enough, but then bright red blood bubbled forth from her lips. Xander turned her head to the side to keep her from choking on it. She closed her eyes, and with the blood running down onto the carpet, it looked like a melodramatic death scene from some B-movie. And Xander realized that aside from the movie part, that might be exactly what it was. But then she coughed again, spraying him with blood. So at least he knew she was still alive. For the moment.

He sat with her for a minute, just watching her breathing to make sure it didn't stop. He stroked her hair, pushing it out of her face to keep her from getting blood in it. Her skin was clammy and cool to the touch. There was nothing else he could do for her, and he felt so useless.

Anya took a deep, ragged breath. Even though it had been a while since she said anything, she had not lost her place in the conversation. "Xander, I want you to know that—"

He shushed her. He really did not think he could take hearing her say goodbye. "You shouldn't be talking. You need to save your strength."

The force of more coughing caused Anya to curl up on her side once again. She stared up at him and parted her blood-red lips, but it was a few seconds before she managed to push any words out. "I don't hate you." She took a dramatic pause. "I love you."

That was almost as bad as goodbye because her saying it meant she thought she was going to die. Otherwise, even if it were true, she would have refused to admit that anything had changed, just like that thing earlier with the memory of Buffy's birthday. Xander forced himself to stay upbeat for her sake. "Wow, you're pretty easy. One good roll in the sheets, and suddenly you're in love?"

She was not in the mood for his flippant humor. "Xander, please..."

Anya was interrupted by a knock on the door. Assuming it was Willow, Xander called for her to come in. Willow called back that the door was locked. He knew that Willow had to have some way around a lock, but it would probably take more time to say that than to just open it, and he wanted a way out of this conversation anyway. He gently extracted his hand from Anya's and got up to answer the door. As soon as he saw his best friend, he felt a rush of relief that there was finally someone who could do something. "She's getting worse. She started coughing up blood."

Willow looked behind him at Anya lying on the floor. Her face paled a little. "We need to take her to a hospital."

Xander shook his head. He could not handle Willow telling him she was as useless as he was. "No, you can fix her. This is a magical thing. It's not a hospital thing."

Willow did not agree. She walked over to Anya and squatted down beside her. "Hey, Anya," she said by way of greeting. Then she spent about two seconds waving her hands over the woman.

She stood again and came back to where Xander was standing. "There's no magic here. That's the problem; the magic is gone. And all that's left are injuries from being attacked with a sword. That's a hospital thing."

He pulled Willow over to a corner to keep Anya from hearing any death talk. "So you're saying there's nothing magical you can do? She just going to die?"

Willow lowered her voice too. "Xander, her heart was cut in half. Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah." He did not really want to be reminded of the impossible realities. He just wanted a solution. "Natural death, nothing you can do."

"No." She put her hand on his shoulder. "It means that the healing was working on a monumental level. Her heart was in two pieces, and the only keeping it beating was magic. But there's no magic, and it's still beating. And everything else that was wrong with her, it's not as serious as it used to be." She pushed him away. "So you go put on pants, and I'll call for an ambulance."

Throughout all of this, Xander had not given much thought to his and Anya clothing situation. He was still in boxers, and she was wearing his shirt. "Oh, _that_ is—"

Willow waved his explanation away. "Probably exactly what it looks like, and I don't need details." She point to the bedroom. "Pants. Now."

Xander turned around feeling a lot better about Anya's chances. That heart thing actually made a lot of sense. But then he saw her again, and she looked so weak, curled up in a ball on her side. The carpet next to her head was stained with her blood. She was still dying from something having to do with being sliced in half. Since Calreg had admitted that even she did not know exactly what was going to happen with this whole vengeance wish, how could they rule out anything as being part of the plan? Before heading into the bedroom, he stopped to reassure Anya and himself. "We're going to take you to the hospital, and everything is going to be fine."

He got dressed as quickly as possible so that he could get back to Anya's side. Then he knelt with her while Willow stayed on the line with the operator. As far as he could tell, Anya had slipped into unconsciousness, and for the five minutes it took for the ambulance to get there, Xander held his hand in front of her face to make sure she kept breathing.

Finally, the paramedics came to the door, and Willow let them in. After the most cursory examination, it was clear to them that Anya needed to be transported to the hospital, and they loaded her onto a stretcher. Xander knew that the next step would be to wheel her to the ambulance and whisk her away, but the thought of losing sight of her for that long made Xander uncomfortable. Because no matter what was happening with the spell, there was still a chance she could die at any minute.

All the jostling revived Anya. As they push her to the door, she reached back. "Xander. I want Xander."

The paramedic in the lead looked at him. "Are you family?"

Xander did not know how to answer that, because if he was family, he could ride in the ambulance with her and he would not have to let her out of his sight until they got to the hospital. But saying it would be lying. He was not sure if they would ever know the difference or if they even really cared.

He was spared from having to decide between the truth and a convenient lie by Anya answering for him. "Yes," she said weakly. "He's my family."

The paramedic waved Xander along, and he tossed his keys to Willow so that she could lock up when she left. "I'll meet you at the hospital. Call Dr..." He used her name so rarely that he had to think about what it was. "Oakes and let her know what's happening."

Willow nodded to let him know that she was on top of everything. It made Xander feel so much better having her there to handle these things for him. With a nod of his own, Xander followed the paramedics out of the apartment.

–

–

**Author's Note:** I don't think we should have any illusions about me getting anything done over the week of Thanksgiving. And then I'll have papers and finals, and I want to stay on top of this, but you should prepare for a slow December, just in case.


	25. Bargaining, Part Two

**Author's Note:** When I said to prepare for a slow December, this was not exactly what I meant. But finally...

–

–

**Chapter 25—Bargaining Part Two**

As soon as she said the word, Calreg literally felt Anyanka's life leave her. It was the first time she had ever reversed a wish, and she had not realized that it would be so palpable. She dropped her hand from her pendant and looked up at D'Hoffryn, hoping that would be the end of this.

He did not look pleased. He took a long pause before speaking. "She is still alive."

–

Before the others got to the hospital, Xander had some time alone in the emergency room waiting area to think about all the things he should have said. Anya told him that she loved him, and he didn't say it back. Had he ever said it to her during this past week? He had implied it, sure. Talked about it in the past tense, about how he used to love her before she died. Told her he would do anything to keep her this time, even marry her. That had to be enough for her to know, right?

And he didn't say goodbye. It didn't even occur to him that he should have until he was sitting in that waiting room. As they pulled her stretcher out of the ambulance and wheeled her away, he was so very aware that it might be the last time he ever saw her, but he still did not think to say goodbye until it was too late.

After maybe ten minutes of Xander sitting alone and thinking, Buffy and Willow found him in the waiting room. "I don't know anything yet," he said as they sat down. He picked up the clipboard from his lap. "I'm supposed to be filling out forms."

Willow took the clipboard from him and looked at it. She picked the pen, poised to help, but she was stumped by the first question. "What's her date of birth?"

"July 4, 1980," Xander answered listlessly. "Or not. Because that would make her 28, and she's probably the same age she was when she died. And that wasn't her real date of birth anyway. That would be more like 980."

Willow paused for a second, letting all of that wash over her. She gave a quick nod. "I'm going to put 1985."

Xander appreciated that Willow was trying to create some semblance of normalcy, but it wasn't working for him. Because there was something else that had become clear to him in the last few minutes. "I was ready to give up. What day was that, Wednesday? I laid in bed that morning, and I decided that it was time to accept that she was never going to feel anything for me again. And then, that morning, she asked me if she could stay at my apartment." That was only the beginning. There was a whole cycle to recount. "So then it turns out that she remembers thinking she was in love with Giles for one afternoon, during the time when we were engaged, but she still couldn't remember ever feeling that for me. So I tell myself that maybe we could be friends again, but because of this whole vengeance thing, we'll never be anything more. That night, she asked me on a date."

Buffy could not understand where he was going with this. "So that's good, right?"

Xander shook his head. "Don't you see? How it's all been so calculated to keep me from letting go? As soon as I accept something, everything changes, just enough to keep me hoping. And last night? Last night actually went pretty well."

"Yeah, I got that," Willow said.

Xander knew they would know what that meant, so he could leave it vague. "There was no going back from that. No matter what she said, I would never believe again that she didn't feel anything for me." It was time to share the conclusion he had drawn from this. "And so now here we are. Now, it's all over because there's nowhere for the vengeance to go from here."

Willow tapped the pen on the clipboard. "I don't think that's what's happening. I think the..." She lowered her voice considerably for the next word. "..._demon_ finally reversed it, like D'Hoffryn wanted."

"And what does that mean? Does it mean that she's not going to die?" He knew that Willow could not say that. She didn't know what it meant any more than he did.

"It means there's no more vengeance," Willow answered defensively.

Without more information, that did not quite mean anything either. Xander saw a young man in scrubs come through the swinging emergency room doors. The man scanned the waiting room and made eye contact with Xander. As soon as he was sure this guy was part of Anya's medical team, Xander got up to talk to him.

The man introduced himself as Dr. Carmona, an intern working on Anya's case. "The paramedics said you were family?"

Xander had not actually lied about this yet, and he decided that he was not going to. "We were engaged."

The doctor shook his head fiercely. "Whoa, no. There's no need for the past tense. I know, I started that, and I'm sorry. But your fiancée is still alive, and we are going to do everything we can to keep her that way."

Xander decided not to correct the doctor. He had done his part for honesty. "Right, I'm just not sure if that counts as family. She doesn't have any blood relatives, so..."

Dr. Carmona nodded. "It's fine. In a few minutes, we're going to take her into surgery, and I just need to ask you few questions about what happened to her."

Xander froze. What could he reasonably say about that? "I don't really know. We were just talking and then she got like a stomach pain. And when she started coughing up blood, that's when we called the ambulance."

The doctor paused. "Your fiancée, Anya, she has a..." He gestured to his own chest. He was trying to confirm that they were talking about the same person.

Xander had not thought much about that unbroken line cutting from shoulder to hip. He supposed something about a sword was going to have to come out, and maybe it would help them to know about it. "Yes, she was, um... This is going to sound crazy, but she was attacked with a sword a few years ago. Back in Sunnydale, so I guess it's been at least five years."

"Oh." The invocation of that mysterious place had the effect Xander had come to expect. People just stopped asking questions when Sunnydale was mentioned, even in connection with swordfights. "So is that all she told you about that?"

Xander wanted to give this doctor all the information he needed, but he knew he couldn't be too specific. "It was really bad at the time. I don't know anything about the actual medical injuries or treatment, if that's what you're asking. But she's been... That was years ago. Do you think that could have something to do with now?"

Dr. Camona shrugged. "Sometimes these things can weaken over time, and something that wasn't an issue before can become one later. So it's good to know about that. Was she doing anything strenuous before the pain started?"

So many questions. Xander considered this newest one. "Not immediately before. I mean there was... some stuff last night." That probably was more physically strenuous than anything else she had done in the last week. "But that didn't cause this," he said mostly to himself.

The doctor immediately understood what "some stuff" meant and gave Xander a reassuring pat on the arm. "Oh, no, I'm sure it didn't. Well, I guess that's all we really need to know. I'll update you when—um, when we have something to update."

Xander nodded and let the doctor get back to saving Anya. It was better to leave it at that. All the questions he could not really answer were exactly the reason he had not wanted to bring her to a hospital. But he knew that right now it was the best chance Anya had. As he walked back to his friends, he reflected on the fact that he still thought she had a chance. He was supposed to be accepting that this was the end, but he still couldn't.

–

"What do you mean she's still alive? She can't be still alive." Calreg felt the necklace again. "I undid the wish."

D'Hoffryn pushed her hand away and ripped the chain from her neck. "Let's just make sure." In one hand, he held up her dangling power center in front of her. Then he closed his other hand around it, crushing it.

Calreg felt a rush of something; it was difficult for her to grasp what. It felt strangely solid and. . . human. She recognized the feeling now. She was human. D'Hoffryn did not have to do that to be sure the wish was reversed. Calreg knew exactly what this was. His patience had more than run out and Anyanka was _still_ alive. Xander Harris and his Slayer and their band of merry do-gooders had found a way to stop her death. Because Calreg waited too long, and for that, she was being punished.

D'Hoffryn dropped the pieces of the necklace to the ground with a long-suffering sigh.. "It's not entirely your fault really. Once that witch came into the picture... But there are other ways."

He was not really talking to her anymore. The other ways, they would have nothing to do with Calreg, and she had pressing concerns of her own. "So, what happens to me now?"

He looked at her with an amused expression. "Oh, Jacquelyn. I could not care less."

In the span of a breath, D'Hoffryn was gone, Arashmahaar was gone, and Calreg—no, Jacquelyn was standing in her hotel room in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. "Oh, come on!" she said to no one. As she thought that he could have at least dropped her off in Texas, she began to realize the implications of being Jacquelyn again. There was nothing left her to do but go back to the parents and the life she abandoned three years before.

–

Xander hated surgery. It was just hours and hours with little information and no way to know whether it was really going well or not. After a few hours, Dr. Oakes showed up with Dawn. She talked to some people, but she still could not tell Xander much about what was happening with Anya while she was in the operating room. Because the one thing he knew about surgery was no matter how careful everyone was, there was always, at every moment, a chance that the patient might die.

Xander wanted to let his friends distract him, but they weren't very good at it. As Dawn talked all about the decisions she was going to have to make during her last year of college, her eyes kept wandering back to the emergency room doors. That was okay because Xander was not really able to concentrate on anything she was saying anyway. Whether or not Dawn decided to go to England to study advanced demonic linguistics with Giles and what was left of the experts hardly seemed pressing at the moment.

There were intermittent updates from Dr. Carmona, but it was a full twelve hours before he finally came out to tell Xander that the surgery was over. Anya came through, but there was a lot of internal damage. More than you'd expect for someone who had been living and walking around for five years after the incident. It was still going to be a little touch and go, but her condition was stable and promising. Xander could see her, but it would be hours before she could be expected to wake up.

Xander went into the ICU, knowing that he would not be allowed to stay there long. He just needed to see her to know that it was real. She was small, pale, and unconscious, but there were machines all around to assure him that she was still alive. He knew there were two ways he could look at this. One was that every hurdle Anya got past just made it that much more likely that she would actually make it through this. And the other was that the cycle of giving him just a little more hope was not over yet.

But it did not really matter which way he saw it; it wouldn't make a difference in what he was going to do. He pulled over a chair and took hold of the hand that was not hooked up to an IV. Then he sat with her for as long as the nurse would let him.

–


	26. After Life

**Chapter 26—After Life**

When she saw the island, Anya knew she was dead. It all came rushing back to her. Now she was back in this Hell and stupid Xander had refused to even let her say good-bye. They knew it was coming this time; it was inexcusable that he had not said any of the things you were supposed to say in such a situation. The last thing he ever said to her was, "You're going to be fine." If she had been given any kind of option, she would have become a ghost and haunted him.

Of course, you weren't given an option when you were a demon. There was probably some kind of complicated equation that the Powers That Be employed, where good deeds were weighed against bad and the scales were tipped by factors you never even thought about during life. And if the scales tip in your favor, maybe then you get some options. But if you were evil, it's all fire and brimstone.

Well, technically, Anya did not see any fire, but there might have been a trace of something brimstone-y in the air. Really, her personal Hell was more like water and bunnies, but that just did not have the same ring to it. She started on an island, or in the water. It did not matter where she started because eternity was a loop, and she was rejoining it in the middle.

And to be accurate, Anya did have options. Three of them, always the same three. One, tread water. Which was fine for the first fifteen minutes or hours or years, but then it really started to hurt. So, two, give into the water. Every time, eventually, it would get to that point where drowning was the best option. Except she didn't "drown." Because she was already dead, so there was nowhere to go from there. She just kept breathing water, which, it turned out, also really hurt. And when her muscles couldn't take anymore, and her lungs were burning too much to even think about going under, there was option three, the island.

There was more than one island actually, but they were all the same, so why waste time on semantics? The island was approximately one hundred square feet, flat and bare, and lousy with bunny rabbits. And they weren't just run-of-the-mill scary bunnies. These bunnies were maneaters. The second she crawled onto the shore, hacking up seawater, they all swarmed her, attacking and biting. Except they couldn't really eat her either. So like Prometheus, her liver, and whatever else, grew back every day, readying her to be eaten all over again.

But the worst thing was that nothing ever changed, and there was no end in sight. After decades, centuries, and millennia, the treading, drowning and bunnies were unnecessary. Just sitting alone on an island for that long would be torture. She would give anything for just a few decades of burning alive or wandering endless hallways. Heck, at this point she would even take toy poodle Hell.

Finally, one day, something different happened. Even though Anya had not made that decision to give in, she started to sink. She did not fight it, but she did instinctively hold her breath as she went farther and father down. She kept expecting to hit the sea floor, but she just continued sinking. Eventually, she could not hold her breath any longer, and she prepared for the onrush of salty water, but when she took her first breath, there was no water. Then she hit bottom.

Anya was lying on her back staring up at... She squinted to see better. Ceiling tiles. Everything around her seemed foggy, but she could hear the sounds of people talking and of machines beeping and hissing and humming. There was a strange smell in the air. Not bad, just strange. Once she realized that she had the ability to breathe glorious air, she tried to take deep breaths, but it still burned, and she was forced to keep her breathing shallow. She wanted to turn her head and see what this place was, but her body did not respond to the command. All she felt were her eyelids growing heavy and closing.

Surfacing back in Hell, Anya pulled herself onto the island to give herself time to think about what had just happened. There was a brief respite that came on the island, after the bunnies finished gnawing at her, while her body was healing itself. As long as she could get past the blinding pain of the irritating sand in her wounds.

Time had little meaning, so she had no idea how many years passed while she sat there considering the ceiling tiles and those moments of something different. It was so long, though, that it began to feel like a tease, as though its only purpose was to remind her that there was more to this existence than her solitary corner of the ocean.

She did not remember closing her eyes, but she opened them now to more ceiling tiles. They looked the same as the last, but she could see enough through her peripheral vision to tell that this was a different room. This time when she tried to turn her head, it obeyed. She saw a wall and machines that meant something to her. In her fog, she was able to come up with the word "hospital."

That one word told her everything. This was real, and those machine were there to keep her out of Hell for a little bit longer. She listened to the soothing sounds they made, the sounds that meant she might not die. Under the beeps of her heart monitor and the plops of her IV drip there was another familiar rasping sound. Although it took some effort, Anya turned her head in the other direction.

There, sleeping in the recliner beside her bed, snoring like he always did, was Xander. Anya tried to say his name to let him know that she was awake, but her voice came out as a barely audible whisper. She considered slapping her hand on the bed to make some noise, but she decided to let him sleep for a while.

Anya had only been awake for a few minutes, but she felt herself growing drowsy again. She was a little afraid that if she closed her eyes then, she would go back, but it quickly got to the point where she could no longer hold them open. Within another minute, she slipped into unconsciousness one more time.

–

As soon as Xander confirmed with his own eye that Anya made it through the surgery, he had sent Buffy and Willow home. Then he spent the night in the waiting room trying to sleep. Every ten minutes or so, the double doors would swing open, and he would sit up to see if it was someone with new information about Anya. It never was though.

Finally, around daybreak, after a solid forty-five minutes of sleep, a nurse had woken Xander to tell him that Anya seemed to be recovering well from her surgery, that she was being moved to a room, and that he could sit in there with her if he liked.

After what the nurse said, Xander had expected to see some kind of improvement, but Anya looked the same as she had when he saw her hours before, weak and vulnerable, practically at death's door. He had forgotten in his hazy, sleep-deprived state that he was still expecting her to die on him. Seeing her hooked up to all those machines made it easier to remember. Xander settled into the chair next to her bed and fell asleep to the hum of the machines.

When he woke a couple hours later, Anya's head was turned toward him, but she was still out. Even though he did not feel well rested, Xander could tell that he would not be falling back to sleep anytime soon. He did not want to leave Anya, but there was nothing for him to do in that room, so he got up to see if he could swipe a magazine from the waiting room.

As he was opening the door, he heard a soft thumping noise. He looked back at Anya. Her eyes were still closed, but her head was facing the other direction, turned toward where he was now. She raised her hand and dropped it down next to her, which accounted for the thumping. Hoping that meant she was awake, Xander closed the door and said her name. "Anya?"

She opened her eyes and licked her lips, but she did not say anything. Still, she was alive and conscious. Xander walked back to her side. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurts," she rasped. "All over. Hurts to breathe."

"You had a tear in your lungs." Xander knew that he was not the best person to inform her of her medical status, and he felt that he had already misstated it just with that one short sentence. "Or something like that. You had some other injuries, but it was mostly your lungs." He figured this was a good time for a small fiction. "But now everything's okay, and you're going to be fine."

"You said that. I didn't believe you." Anya took a couple deeper breaths, and Xander could see how painful they were for her. "I thought I died."

Between the soft volume and the fact that she just woke from surgery, Xander auto-corrected her words to mean that she thought she was going to die. "We were all worried about that, but you're better now."

"No." She shook her head, looking like it took great effort. "I was in Hell."

He heard that clearly, but his mind refused to register the plain meaning of those words. "What?"

Anya closed her eyes. "I was in Hell," she murmured again. "But it's okay."

Xander did not know how that could possibly be okay. Sure, it was something he had considered before, what with Willow insisting on it, but he kept coming back to the same thought. "You died saving the world." He realized the futility of arguing this point now, but he persisted. "People like that don't go to Hell."

Anya was quiet for a long time. Xander thought she had fallen back asleep until she spoke again. "But I'm not really people. I made choices, and there are always..." She trailed off at the end.

Before this, part of Xander thought that if she just woke up, that would be all he needed, but now it was taking an ominous turn. Like maybe she came back just to make sure he knew where she was going to end up. He felt the need to keep her talking. "Always what?"

She opened her eyes again. She seemed a little confused, but then she remembered what she had been saying. "Consequences. Thousands of years of consequences. Do you know what the worst part was?"

Xander was not sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. "What?"

"That I couldn't die again. I wanted to. I spent so much time wishing it all would just kill me so that it would finally be over. But I was already at the end, so it couldn't kill me." She paused to think about that. "It's kind of ironic in a way. When I wanted to die, I couldn't, and now that I can, I don't want to."

Xander smiled. "I'm not sure that really counts as irony."

She closed her eyes again. "Maybe not," she said dreamily.

She was drifting out on him again, and Xander did not want to miss this opportunity to tell her certain things. "Wait, Anya, before you go..." He winced at the awkward wording of that. He reached down and put his hand over hers. "I just wanted to let you know that I still love you too."

For a second, he was not even sure if she could hear him, but then Anya turned her hand over and curled her fingers around his. "I know."

–

–

**Author's Note:** Considering that I'm so swamped that I completely missed January, part of me feels like maybe I should just end it here where everyone is in love and happy and alive. But there are a couple more things that need to be said, and the D'Hoffryn storyline isn't really resolved. So this isn't the end, but if you wanted to think of it as the end for a little while, that might be okay. (I just don't know whether my updating is going to get better or worse, but there are 2-3 more chapters planned.)

Oh, and why drowning? There's a whole thought process that went into that, but all that matters for you is that it has nothing to do with Anya's fears specifically.


	27. Shadow

**Chapter 27—Shadow**

As soon as he was sure she was asleep, Xander gently pulled his hand out of Anya's grip. He watched her for a while, considering what she had said in this most recent conversation, and he made a decision. He was done with all the second guessing and the back and forth and the waiting for her to die. It was time to end the cycle.

"I believe that she's going to live this time," he whispered aloud. He did not really know where to direct this sentiment, so he just looked up. "I believe that the vengeance is over and that this is just real life."

There was another part to this that went unspoken, and it was actually the more important part. It was, so if he was wrong, they might as well take her now. But he did not say that because it kind of negated everything else. And because he wasn't wrong.

With one last look at Anya's machines, Xander left the room to call the others with updates.

–

A sharp tug pulled Anya out of her dark, empty sleep. She opened her eyes to see a strange woman standing over her. A woman in light blue scrubs, a hospital worker. She was in the hospital; it all came back to Anya now.

The woman leaned over. "Oh dear, I'm sorry about that. I was just checking your vitals, and I must've gotten caught up in the wires."

Anya looked around the room. She still felt a little foggy and out of it from the surgery and Hell and all that, but when she tried to speak now, her voice came out stronger than it had before. "Where's Xander?"

The hospital worker looked confused for a moment, and then she brightened. "Oh, your fiancé?" She shrugged. "I'm not sure where he's gone, but he stayed here in the waiting room all night. I know he's going to be happy to see that you're awake."

The word fiancé struck Anya with a kind of dissonance. Even as the woman kept talking, Anya just kept focusing on how jarring that word was. Fiancé. That was not who he was anymore. Now that she was getting better and remembering everything they were, it seemed like everything was just going work again, like magic. But then that one word reminded her that everything was still so up in the air and that they were starting at the end.

She knew that she should say something to this woman, so she nodded. "Okay."

As she said this, Xander appeared in the doorway holding a magazine in his hand. "Ah, there he is now," the hospital worker said. "I'll let you two have some time alone."

That must have sounded ominous to Xander, because once the woman was out of the room, he sat down in the chair next to Anya, setting his magazine aside, and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes." Anya shook her head. "Or I don't know. She didn't say anything about that." She was still hung up on the word, and she wanted to share her unease. "There was one thing though. She seemed to think we were engaged."

It came out sounding more like a question than Anya intended. Xander got a troubled look on his face. It could have meant anything, ranging from he had no clue where she got that idea to that he also thought they were engaged. Come to think of it, there had been something like that when she first came to his apartment. As she tried now to recall what exactly he had said, Anya decided that if Xander thought they were engaged, she would not quibble on the point that she never actually agreed to marry him this time.

"Um..." As soon as he opened his mouth, it was clear that was not what he was going to say. "I had to tell them that so that they'd let me stay with you. But if you... I mean I just, I didn't want you to be alone, but now that you're awake, it's totally up to you if you want me to stay."

If he had to. That's what he said in his apartment. Plainly, a couple different ways. He would marry her only if he had to. At the time, it seemed like so much, but she understood it better now. He loved her and, if she pressed, he would stay this time rather than lose her, but it wasn't what he wanted. And that was okay for now. Whether he would ever really be ready was a conversation for another day. They were still re-establishing the foundation. So she would start there, with the simplest of sentiments. "Of course I want you here."

Xander sat back, visibly relieved. Anya realized that he did not know how much had changed for her since that night they were together. She could not be sure if she remembered everything, but she remembered much, much more. And he would never know that unless she told him.

Anya did not want to have to talk about the past or how she felt or any of it really. She just wanted to get to the part where they were trying again. But there was no skipping ahead. "Do you remember that time in Buffy's kitchen, when the power was out and we were eating ice cream?"

Xander smiled. "I'm not the one with amnesia."

She knew he would remember; he had already brought it up once before. It was just a way to segue into what she really needed to say. "I thought we were getting back together too—Or I hoped we were. But I didn't want to ask, because if you said no, that would mean it was my fault."

He looked confused. "What was your fault?"

She drew in a deep breath, which caused some pressure in her chest. She knew what it was, healing lungs, but coupled with what she was about to say, it felt like her heart hurt. "Us not getting back together. Because I was willing to put everything that happened behind us and try again. I wanted another chance at a future with you, and that want was stronger than the anger or hurt. So if you said that we weren't getting back together, that would mean that it was the things I did that were keeping us apart. Whether it was Spike or Anyanka, something I did was the reason we couldn't be together anymore. So I didn't ask."

"Anya..." Xander trailed off. He had this sad look on his face, like they were on the edge of something crucial and he was afraid to push. "So we agree that we were getting back together. Back then."

She nodded. "And then I died. And you lived for five years. While I was dead for a thousand."

Xander nodded. Like they had fallen off that edge, just as he expected they would. In that moment, Anya saw the whole last week with clear, new eyes. He expected her to hurt him. Every time they were together, he waited for it and resigned himself to it. She continued in the face of this pessimism. "But I don't think that means anything has to change. I mean, I'm here now. And you're single now. And we're still all forgiven. So I don't see any reason not to try now."

It scared her a little to put it all out on the line like that. For a second, Xander did not react, but slowly his mouth spread into a smile. "You mean that?"

That was not an adequate response, so Anya had to go on. "I know what I said last—" She shook her head. "Or whatever night that was "

"Two nights ago," he filled in for her.

So he knew right where she was going with this, which meant it probably did need to be addressed. "Right. I know that I said that we shouldn't have sex anymore and that I don't want you to be my home. But I was wrong. I just had pieces then; I didn't know..." She thought about how to put it. "I didn't know who you were yet. And I didn't know who I was, not really. And I didn't know what we could be."

"A disaster?" His voice was half teasing, half asking.

"Yes, we could be that," Anya conceded. She did not know why he was making this so difficult for her. "But we could be something else, right? If—if you don't want to, just say so."

Xander got a surprised look on his face. "Oh, I already said... I told you that, didn't I? That if I got you back, I wouldn't let you go this time."

That was a hypothetical, one that ended in a no actually. It wasn't quite enough for her now. "I need you to say it again."

He almost said something, but he hesitated. Anya could not tell if he was searching for the right words or just stalling. With a deep breath, he started again. "I want to try again. Older, wiser, mistakes behind us. Obviously, I want to try again. You came back from the dead; how could I waste an opportunity like that?"

Xander was trying to be upbeat, but he sounded more like he was on the verge of tears. The only times Anya ever saw him cry was after someone died, Joyce or Buffy. Suddenly, she understood his hesitation. "It's not over," she said sadly, knowingly.

"What?"

She sighed. " The vengeance. You still think that I'm going to die."

"No." He was lying. "Remember, it was the demon magic keeping you alive? And Willow said the magic's gone, and you're still here. So all of that, it's all over."

"You don't believe that."

He was going to disagree with her; Anya could tell. But then he took a deep breath and shook his head. "I want to. I just—I need time."

Anya still did not know what the wish was, and she could only make educated guesses about what it meant that the magic was gone. She could not really say for sure that she was not going to die, but it felt like they had turned a corner. "So you want to wait? " she asked, disappointed. "We can't... until you're sure?"

"God, no." Xander scooted the chair closer to her bed and took her hand in his. "I don't want to wait another minute. It's just going to be a while before I stop expecting the worst."

Anya squeezed his hand as much as she could, even though she knew it would only make her seem weak.. "You'll see. I'll get better fast. I still know how to heal myself. I'll do the exercises, and I'll be fine."

Xander nodded, again making a valiant effort to look like he believed anything was going to be fine. He stroked her hand and up her arm a little bit. "Good, but, um, don't—don't push yourself. You know, things are different now.; there's no need to rush it anymore." He moved his hand over her chest. "Your heart had a lot of damage too, so you shouldn't put too much strain on it."

Through the thin fabric of her hospital gown, Anya could almost feel Xander's warm skin against her chest. It was not the first time he touched like that since she came back; they'd had sex after all. But somehow it was like that night didn't even count, because even though it was good, great even, she did not know enough to appreciate it fully. It was like it was for her the first time, not quite like it was toward the end. Now, she knew though. Now his hand on her chest had meaning and evoked feelings. Before she brought up healing, they had been discussing something, and it was important to get back to that, to make sure she understood. "But so you don't want to wait. So even if it does take a long time for me to get better, we can be—right now, we could be a we again? Instead of you and me, it could be us?"

Xander pulled his hand away from her chest. For a second it felt like he was pulling everything away, but then he smiled. "Yeah. We are together, no matter what happens with your recovery." He put a slight emphasis on the "we." After a second, he added, "As long as that's what you want."

He still did not fully understand. "That's what I've always wanted. This last week... that wasn't me." The final piece came together for her. "It was the vengeance, but you knew that, right?"

Xander nodded. "I knew. " He thought about that for a second. " So you don't have to worry about anything you might have said or done because I don't blame you. I'm just glad it's over."

Anya felt a yawn rising in her chest, and she stifled it to keep Xander from seeing. She knew that he wanted her to rest, but she already felt like she had been sleeping for so long, already wasted so much time. They only had four or five decades left, if they were lucky. "Right, over. So now—"

She stopped because Xander was looking behind her. She turned her head to see another hospital worker in the doorway, a male one this time. He came into the room. "I heard you were awake," he said with a smile. "I'm Dr. Carmona, and I wanted to update you on your condition."

Anya braced herself for bad news, something that would confirm all of Xander's fears, but the doctor was pretty upbeat. Despite catastrophic injuries and major surgery, he said she was healing remarkably well. "Just being up and talking to your fiancé is quite a feat."

There was that word again, but this time it did not seem so upsetting. Now things were more settled, and the fact that "fiancé" did not accurately describe Xander's relation to her was okay because they were not at the end anymore. They were back on a path to the middle. So Anya held the hand of her just-boyfriend and listened to Dr. Carmona talk about recovery plans.

–

After hearing the doctor tell them how great Anya was doing, Xander felt like things were going too well, and that old paranoia crept back up. He realized that it would help if he could just talk to Calreg one last time, but he doubted that she was going to make any more appearances, especially if she was done with them. So he needed time. But that concept was not so scary anymore. There was actually a chance now that they would have abundant time for him to be sure, and for her to heal, and for them to work things out.

Left alone again, Xander and Anya fell into an almost easy, slightly awkward silence. It felt like everything that needed to be said right then had been said, and Xander did not want to poke at the blossoming relationship too soon for fear of it bursting. So he was a little relieved when the nurse came in to tell Anya that she had other visitors, but she could only see one at a time.

Xander saw an opportunity in this. He did not want to leave Anya, and that was part of the problem. He had not been home since she was first brought into the hospital, and the clothes he was wearing had not been particularly clean when he first put them on. So he told Anya that she should visit with Buffy and Willow and whoever else was there, and that would give him time to run home and shower. Anya agreed that she should let the girls know that bygones were bygones and that she had (mostly) forgiven them for the terrible things they did.

On his way out, Xander passed Buffy in the hallway. "You better be nice to her," he said. "Because she's my girlfriend now."

Buffy smiled. "See, I told you everything was going to work out."

At his apartment, Xander showered and put on freshly laundered clothes, in case he got stuck at the hospital again. Then, remembering what Erica said, he spent some time flipping through his comic book collection to see if he could find that picture of Anya. It bothered him that there was no trace of her left to show that he ever even thought about her in the intervening five years. After a while of searching, he gave up, figuring it was more important to be with the real Anya.

By the time Xander got back to the hospital, it was getting close to the end of visiting hours. He found a nurse he knew was a soft touch and convinced her to let him spend the night with his "fiancée." As scary as that word had been so many years before, now it almost seemed right. Even though they were taking it slow and that was good, on some level he knew, he still intended to marry that girl someday.

In the room, he found Buffy sitting next to a sleeping Anya. As soon as she saw him, Buffy got up from the chair and patted Xander on the shoulder, almost like she was tagging him in. He watched her leave and then turned his attention back to Anya.

A mere thirty seconds after Buffy left, she ran back into the room. "Demon," she said by way of explanation. "We forgot about the demons. Barricade the door." And just like that, she was gone again.

Xander looked around, but there was not much in the room he could use. He slid the heavy recliner over to the door, but he was sure that would not be enough to stop a demon if one really wanted to get in. At best, it would just slow it down. He sat in the chair to add extra weight. He had forgotten about D'Hoffryn, why Anya had needed protection. All her problems had blurred together. So after all that, it turned out he was right the first time. It wasn't over.

Behind him, Xander could hear the sounds of a fight. After a minute, he felt a slight push on the door. And then there was another harder one that moved the door, Xander, and the chair a couple inches. One more push and the demon would be in, but Buffy must have stopped it. Xander pushed the chair back into place and waited for the next assault.

A little bit later, the crashing stopped, and there was a knock on the door. Xander was wary, so he respond with, "Yes?"

A familiar voice came back. "It's Buffy. Open up."

Still cautious, Xander pulled the chair away and opened the door a sliver. Buffy pushed her way in, dragging the demon corpse with her. "We need to find somewhere to put this." She said, propping it up behind the door.

Xander cocked his head to the side. "I don't think that's a good place."

"I know. It's just until I—"

Buffy was interrupted by a nurse sticking her head through the doorway. Xander quickly pulled the door more open to make sure it was blocking her view of the body. The nurse smiled at Buffy. "Visiting hours are over."

"Oh, okay," Buffy smiled back. "I was just leaving." She turned to Xander. "So, Willow will be here in the morning to help with that thing."

"The morning?" Xander repeated incredulously. "This has to wait until morning?"

The nurse had moved on, and Buffy closed the door. "Yeah, but we should move it to the bathroom because they're probably going to check on her in the night." She started to drag the body in that direction. "Help me."

Xander sighed and picked up the feet. He did not like the idea of spending the whole night with a dead demon in the bathroom, but he supposed his options were limited. Once they set the body in the walk-in shower, Xander reflected on the nurse's casual attitude and the general lack of excitement or concern. "So no one saw you fighting this thing?"

"Guess not." Buffy shrugged. "Just got lucky, I guess. It happens." She re-opened the main door to the room. "Well, good night. See you guys in the morning."

Xander glanced back at Anya. She had managed to sleep through the whole thing. Turning back to Buffy, he said, "Yeah, good night."

When Buffy was gone, for good this time, Xander moved the chair back where it was supposed to be and sat at Anya's side again. It was still kind of early for him. Plus, he was not sure how well he was going to sleep knowing what was in the bathroom. So he picked up his magazine from the table next to the bed and began to read.

–

–

**Author's Note:** This chapter was delayed for at least a month because I didn't want to write the demon attack, and then I ended up not writing it anyway. But seriously, sorry it took so long.


	28. Forever

**Author's Note:** I'm crazy sorry I made you wait a year and a half for this last chapter. I honestly had no idea that it had been that long since I updated until I checked the dates just now. Seriously, where did the time go? Anyway, so I got held up on this chapter because I kept waiting for a better resolution to come to be, but now it's time to accept that this is the way it needs to end. Hope it was worth the wait.

–

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**Epilogue—Forever  
**

When Anya awoke in the morning, Buffy and Willow were there, and Anya could tell that something was wrong. Still. Always.

Xander took her hand with a concerned look in his eyes. Nothing was ever easy. She hated that about being human. The universe couldn't even give her one more day to recover from major surgery. She pushed herself up into more of a seated position, which took some effort. "What is it now?"

Everyone exchanged a look. "Do you remember after the frat house?" Willow started. "D'Hoffryn sent demons?"

Xander shook his head. "She doesn't even have to remember that." He turned to address Anya. "The first night you came back, when you were still insisting you were Christina Emmanuel, he sent a demon then too."

Anya remembered all of it. She especially remembered those demons from her days of being a good vengeance demon. She knew of what they were capable better than anyone else in the room. "So there was another attack?" If she didn't ask, it would take them forever to get to the point.

Xander nodded. "So we just have to figure out how to stop that, and we're good."

"He's not going to stop." Anya felt that on some level they all already knew this, and any optimism they offered would be a big fat lie. "This is what he does. If he wants me dead, he won't give up until it happens."

"No," Xander said firmly, in a way that was a little startling. "I just got you back. You're alive, you're healing, and you are sticking around this time. So I don't care what D'Hoffryn wants, you are not going to die."

Anya was not exactly resigned to death either. Now that she remembered what was waiting for her on the other side, she was in no hurry to return. "Okay."

"Okay," Xander repeated, sounding a little relieved. "So is there something he wants? Something we could do for him in exchange for leaving you alone?"

Buffy looked unsure about this approach. "We can't start making deals with demons. It's like negotiating with terrorists."

He was undeterred. "So we negotiate with this one terrorist. It's Anya."

Anya shook her head. This whole discussion was moot anyway. "There's nothing he wants from you. He just wants me punished. I disappointed him, and now I have to pay."

Xander gave a one word response. "Unacceptable."

Anya looked at the way he was still holding her hand. He loved her. The others were there as friends with a vested interest in stopping demon attacks, but Xander's vested interest was in her. She felt a happy swelling in her heart. That was one thing she kinda really liked about being human. She just had to figure this out, and she and Xander could live happily ever after.

She knew a lot about vengeance and the demons who exacted it. After a thousand years, she was pretty much an expert on the subject. If anyone would be able to find a way out, it would be her. And yet she was drawing a very frustrating blank. She supposed Buffy could try to kill D'Hoffryn, but that wouldn't end it. There would just be a new head demon with an even bigger vendetta. She sighed heavily. "There's only one thing we can do."

Xander squeezed her hand in his excitement at the possibility of a solution, and Buffy leaned in closer. "What?" she asked.

"Make it hurt too much." Anya knew this was not going to be the cure-all they were looking for, but it was all she had. "Those hitmen, he doesn't have an endless supply. There will always be angry witches ready to be corrupted, but his enforcers need to be grown. And that type of demon has a very long gestation period. He'll keep sending them, and you have to keep killing them, until I'm just not worth it anymore."

Willow was not enthusiastic about this plan. "Okay, but killing his pets? Won't that just make him angrier?"

Yeah, it probably would, but the alternative to Anya's solution was to despair. Basically, the only other option was for Anya to die, and there were at least two people in the room who found that unacceptable. She revised her previous statement. "Until none of us are worth it anymore. Honestly, with your vast network of Slayers, you're too dangerous an adversary. It might not even take too long for him to realize that."

Buffy understood what she was saying. "There's nothing to do but keep fighting. That's all we do anyway." She looked around the room at each of the faces. Anya recognized the beginnings of a stirring speech. Buffy had given a lot of those in the last few weeks before Anya died. "We fight demons. And if it wasn't these demons, it'd be others. Anya is right; we can hurt him just as much as he can hurt us. Everything is going to be okay."

As Anya examined Willow and Xander's expressions, it seemed that Buffy's words had the desired effect. Anya tried to match the conviction in Buffy's voice as she repeated the sentiment. "Yeah, everything is going to be okay."

–

–

**Author's Note:** So if you want to know why it took so long, it's because I was hoping not to end on quite this depressing a note. But Anya's right, and it totally works. I wouldn't bring her back just to kill her. Anyway, thanks to all my readers, especially the ones who came back after a year and a half hiatus. You've all been great! (Again, so sorry.)


End file.
